From Dawn to Dawn
by Draconian Sorceress
Summary: Crossover between the original and the remake. This will take on a life of its own, new characters, etc. Please read and review!COMPLETE.
1. Worlds Collide

It felt like they'd been flying forever, but it had been only twenty-four hours since they'd flown out of Philadelphia. Stephen was still steering them towards Canada, not the most direct route, perhaps, but it gave them the opportunity to search for much needed supplies. 

"How's the fuel situation looking man?" asked Roger.

Stephen glanced at the man sitting next to him before replying, "It's holding up, but I'd feel better if we found some place to fuel up again, preferably sooner rather than later."

So far they had been sticking to the countryside and avoiding the larger cities, initially in fear of being caught with the stolen helicopter. But as they realized just how wide spread this plague was, it no longer mattered. Their need for food and water, and the simple fact that it'd been more than 12 hours since they had seen another living person now drove them towards the cities.

Fran spoke up from the rear seat of the aircraft, fear adding sharpness to her voice. "Do we even know where we're at Stephen? I mean, we're almost out of water, we've got no food, and you just said yourself that we're going to need fuel soon. For God's sake, we don't even have a plan!" Shakily she reached into her purse for a cigarette, knowing she should feel guilty about it for the baby's sake, but finding herself unable to care. In her mind the odds of living long enough to bring it into the world were a long shot at best.

"I know exactly where we're at," he replied, wisely choosing to ignore the cigarette. "We're just slightly south of one of the Milwaukee suburbs, Everett, I think it's called. We should be able to find a rooftop to set down on, get some rest. Maybe we'll even get lucky and find some food." Stephen hoped his words sounded more confident then he felt. Anything that would help to ease some of Fran's fears. Fran, as if their relationship didn't have enough problems with her pregnancy, now they had to deal with the end of the world too.

Peter spoke, dragging Stephen from his thoughts. "Sorry Flyboy, but we are not setting this chopper down anywhere unless me and Roger are certain it's secure." Peter had no faith in Stephen's judgment. Ever since the pilot had shown his ineptitude with a rifle to the extent that he'd almost shot Peter during their first refueling debacle relations between the two men could be described as strained at best.

"And just how are we supposed to make sure it's secure without landing?" demanded Stephen. Angry that his plan was being shot down without even trying.

"Sonuvabitch! How about if there's a big sign posted!" laughed Roger, as giddy as a child at Christmas.

"What the hell are you talking about Rog?" a still irritated Stephen snapped.

"Take a good look up ahead, see that big indoor shopping center? I'm pretty sure that writing on the side says 'Help Alive Inside.' And there's that big SOS plain as day on top of the roof. You ask me, that's an open invitation. Those malls, they got restaurants,  
TV's, radios, you name it. Anything we could want all for the taking." Roger smiled,  
looking at the other occupants of the helicopter.

"Damn, I think he's right Flyboy. It's perfect." Peter agreed.

"Wait, how do we know for sure that it's safe? That those things haven't gotten inside? It's been a week since this all started, and look at all those things down there, there's got to be thousands of them," Fran pointed out. She was afraid to hope that this was really a safe haven. That they would actually be able to get off this helicopter and hide, even if it was just a temporary thing, seemed like nothing more than a dream.

This time it was Peter who smiled at her as he pointed back towards the roof. "Look there, the door to the roof is opening, looks like someone's holding the door, some more people are carrying something out. Now, I don't know about you, but I've never seen any of these creatures hold doors for each other or work together on anything that didn't involve killing. It's gonna be okay Fran." He smiled again reassuringly at her, even as he noticed how the creatures surrounding the mall seemed somehow different from the ones they had fled back home. It wasn't until the first sheet wrapped object, that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than a body, was heaved over the side did he realize what was different. Back home the zombies, were almost ridiculously comical with their slow, stiff movements. They were easy to outrun when dealing with small groups of them. The ones here though, when that body in the sheet had been thrown over, some of the creatures below had grabbed for it, a couple dodged it, but all seemed to possess the reflexes and speed of an Olympic class athlete. Could it be possible? Were there two types of zombies? His mind couldn't begin to fathom the possibility.

Down below on the roof, it had been Kenneth and Michael that the helicopter's occupants had seen struggling under the weight of the woman from Norma's truck. They'd heaved her over the edge for what would have to serve as a burial for now. Terry and André had followed suit with Frank's body. Ana had accompanied them to man the doors. Together the five of them stared for a moment at the growing mob of creatures outside the mall. The combined moans and snarls from so many of them drowned out the sounds of the approaching helicopter.

"Jesus, is there anyone else left alive?" Ana didn't even realize she'd uttered those words aloud until she heard Michael's quiet response.

"We made it, Andy made it, there's got to be other survivors out there somewhere, there has to be..." he trailed off as thoughts of what the alternative would mean came into his mind, too unbearable to put into words.

"I just wish we knew what was going on Michael, the TV's have been out all day, radios too. I just want to know that someone else out there somewhere made it, that there is hope for us," she nodded towards the zombies below, "that we're not all going to end up like those soulless creatures, roaming the earth as we rot."

Michael placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He was about to speak again, but the sharp crack of gunfire rang out from the direction of Andy's store. As they looked towards the shop they all felt a strange sense of deja vu, for the second day in a row, a helicopter was approaching.

"A helicopter! But I thought Ft. Pastor was gone!" Terry blurted out.

"That's civilian, not military," Kenneth told him, grabbing the binoculars CJ had left on the rooftop the day before. "Looks like it's got television news markings on the side.

"I don't care who it is, as long as they're coming to get us out of here!" the excited teen replied.

Kenneth and Michael looked at each other, both thinking the same thought, neither wanted to voice out loud. Even if there was a place for them to go, the likelihood that a news helicopter had been sent to rescue them was positively minuscule. They were not going to be rescued.

The five of them continued to watch the helicopter as it circled the roof and then landed. Four people emerged from the helicopter, a woman and three men carrying rifles slung over their shoulders. As they approached, neither group seemed to know what to say. Michael finally broke the silence. "I guess greetings are in order," he began. "I'm Michael, this is Ana, Terry, Kenneth and André. So do you have any news about what's going on?"

The tall black man clad in a S.W.A.T. uniform answered. "The name's Peter, this is Roger, Fran and Stephen. Don't really have much news to give you,we haven't spoke to anyone elsesince we flew outta Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia!" Kenneth spoke sharply. "You're a helluva long way from home aren't you brother?"

Peter didn't respond. Instead Fran inquired, "What about you? Don't you have any kind of information about what's going on?"

Michael smiled at her. In his trademark soft-spoken voice he said, "We haven't heard anything new since the last group of survivors showed up this morning. That's when we learned that Ft. Pastor had fallen. It was the last aid station in the area that any of us knew of still in operation. The televisions and radios went off the air some time during the night."

"You said the last group of survivors," Stephen cut in, "Exactly how many people do you have here?"

"Fourteen total actually in the mall. We like to think of ourselves as fifteen strong though including Andy," Michael responded.

That comment caught Roger's attention. "Andy, who's Andy?"

Kenneth held the binoculars out to him and gestured in the direction of Andy's store. "He's the owner of the gun shop over there, kinda catty corner to the parking lot here. Trapped and alone. Looks like we should be able to get Andy over here now though," he finished directing one of his imposing stares towards the newcomers, clearly implying who was in charge.

"How do you figure that my friend?" Peter asked, casually pulling a cigar from a pocket on his uniform and lighting it. There was no way he was going to allow his people to be pushed around, they were all equals.

Fran wasn't putting up with the macho bullshit out of either of the men. Now that they were safely on the ground, the food and water problem now solved, she was back to feeling like the ballsy bitch that made her such a damn good producer. "Peter stop playing games, and Kenneth is it? If you want us to use our helicopter to save your friend, all you had to do was ask, no need for the he-man attitude," she snapped at the two men. Peter smiled, it was the first real spunk he'd seen out of her since they'd departed from Philly.

"What do you think Flyboy? Think you can handle something like that?" he called over his shoulder to Stephen.

Stephen looked at Kenneth as he said, "I'd be a lot more ready for it if I could get something to eat, maybe a few hours of sleep." He yawned as if to emphasize his point.

"Kenneth, Michael, why don't we take them below, let them meet the rest of the group," Ana interrupted.


	2. Getting to Know You

In the food court area, the new arrivals were offered food and water while they were introduced to the remaining group. Michael began to casually question them. Ana was surprised to realize how he was turning a casual conversation into a subtle interrogation.

"We've been holed up here for about two days now. I guess you could say it was about three nights ago when the shit started to hit the proverbial fan. That's when the news broadcasts began, I'm sure it was pretty much the same for you all too." He allowed himself to trail off. Fran picked things up without missing a beat.

"The first reports of the walking dead started about a week ago in Philly. The last four days, things just completely went out of control. We got out just in time I guess you could say."

"So have you seen any other survivors?" Nicole asked.

"Or heard anything over the radio, tower traffic, that kind of thing?" Michael added.

"Nah, headset's been quiet ever since we left the city. We were able to fuel up a couple of times, little country airports way off the beaten path. From the looks of things, people lit out of both of them in a real hurry as soon as things started going to hell. The only question is where'd they all go," Stephen finished around a big yawn.

Roger added, "The last survivors we saw were some National Guard units and a bunch of rednecks out hunting those bastards. They seemed to be holding their own pretty good though."

Steve gave one of his humorless laughs. "Well I guess we should just wait for the cavalry of rednecks to arrive then huh? All whistling through their tooth. Hey Daniel Boone," he called to Michael, "maybe you should turn CJ loose so he can bring them all running with one of their mating calls or something. Bunch of jackasses. You still seriously think we'll actually be rescued." He poured himself another drink.

Fran stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. She lit a cigarette, ignoring the look Stephen gave her, and looked again towards Michael. "So what's the situation here? Is it safe?"

"About as safe as we can make it, all things considered. the outer doors all have shatter proof glass, they seem to be holding up pretty well. We've reinforced some of the weaker spots with doors from the back offices of some of the stores. We're planning on reinforcing all that with furniture and stuff, kind of create a barricade sort of thing," he replied.

Fran nodded. "Is there a way out? If those things get inside I mean."

This time Kenneth answered. "We don't have a way out. Best we can do is hope we can get rescued before they make it in here." His response made everyone uneasy, putting into words something they all preferred to leave unsaid.

"Michael, Kenneth, these guys look like they're about ready to drop," Ana said quickly,  
hoping to divert everyone's thoughts from the fate Kenneth reminded them of. "Why don't we get the set up with some beds in one of the stores, we can go over all of this stuff later."

Kenneth looked like he wanted to argue, but instead stood up and began walking in the direction of the elevators, calling over his shoulder, "I'm gonna go have a talk with Andy,  
fill him in on what's going on."

Ana, following his cue, stood up too. "If you guys are ready, I'll show you where some beds are." Everyone started going their separate ways then. Michael accompanied Ana and the crew from Philadelphia.

Terry and Nicole headed towards the elevators, exiting at the second floor. There they went to the now quiet electronics store where he still slept, usually joined by Kenneth. They began talking about the turn of events, offering each other what comfort they could. 

André hurried back to Luda. He didn't like staying away from her for as long as he had,  
but couldn't resist hearing the news. He didn't think she was in danger of changing yet,  
the infection seemed to be spreading slowly, but he didn't want to take any chances. Luda still didn't realize what was happening to her, just attributed everything to the baby and their run for survival. All except for the obviously infected bite on her arm. But he just couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth, more because he feared admitting the truth to himself than anything. This was his family, his wife and unborn child.

Monica dragged Norma to some of the clothing stores, insisting that shopping for clothes was therapeutic. Steve elected to remain at the Hallowed Grounds bar, drinking. Tucker joined Kenneth on the roof.

Glen had gone to the detention cell to take CJ and Bart some lunch.

"Come on man, what the hell do you mean they let some more people in here?" CJ groaned. "They gotta stop or else those bleeding hears are gonna let the wrong ones in and we're all gonna be well and truly fucked."

"But CJ they got a helicopter! We can get our asses outta here!" was Bart's response.

CJ just shook his head. None of them knew what had happened to make those crazy fucks outside. If someone did they would have come up with a cure by now, all those scientists in Washington DC or wherever it was the government kept them. It'd been more than 12 hours since they'd last had any kind of TV news report, not even the emergency broadcast system was working. And now this dumb kid thought they were as good as rescued because a helicopter had landed on the roof.

Glen peered at them through the wires of the detention cell. "They came here from Philadelphia, escaped in that helicopter, before the city was completely overrun I guess. Two of them were S.W.A.T. team members, the other two worked for a news station. They said they saw some National Guard troops still fighting back east somewheres, I didn't catch where. Maybe there are troops coming our way right now," he finished.

"So there's still a good chance we'll be rescued soon," Bart said happily. He could put up with being stuck in the detention cell for a little while longer, even with CJ's current bad mood, if there truly was a rescue party on its way.

"You idiots! Everyone out there is dead!" CJ almost shouted. "And you all are thinking that just because four people stole a helicopter and managed to fly it this far we're going to be rescued. Why in hell do you think they flew this far? Because there was no place else to go. And why did they stop here? Because there was no place else to go." He looked at Glen and almost sneered, "And you keep talking about National Guard troops still fighting 'back east.' That was what two days ago? Seems to me Ft. Pastor was still fighting two days ago too." With that, CJ grabbed a bottle of water and an old Cosmopolitan magazine and sat down with his back to both of them. Bunch of fucking idiots, he thought, furiously flipping through the magazine.

In the store called Metropolis, Stephen immediately fell asleep after being shown to the beds. Fran lay next to him, unable to sleep, silently listening to Peter and Roger talk.

"So what do you think man? Looks like they got a pretty good set up here." Roger started.

"I don't know brother. First thing I want to do is take a good look at all the entrances,  
see how secure they really are. Then I want to focus on getting those barricades that that Michael guy was talking about put into place." Peter paused, "Then once we have it as secure as we can make it, we'll be able to decide how good of a set up we have."

"Peter, it's not like we have much else in the way of options," yawned Roger.

"True, but that doesn't mean we're not going to look for them anyway."

They continued talking like this for a few more minutes, until exhaustion finally got the better of them and they fell asleep. It was a long while before Fran was able to fall asleep. She was lost in her own thoughts about the complete change in their circumstances from that morning. She'd desperately wanted to find other survivors, a sign that they would be able to make it through. But now that they had, she still was afraid. She hoped it was just the hormones, thought maybe it was the fear associated with bringing a child into the world, especially when it all seemed to be ending around them. 


	3. Reality Intrudes

The next morning over breakfast they discussed rescuing Andy from the gun shop. Kenneth suggested, "We'd be wise to load up on as many guns and as much ammunition as we can while we're over there."

"He's right. If those things were to break in here right now we'd be lunch without some more firepower," Peter agreed.

"But I thought we were safe in here!" Nicole yelped. Unconsciously she edged her chair closer to Terry's. He reached for her hand under the table and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Nicole baby, we are safe here," Michael spoke with a confidence he didn't feel. "All Kenneth and Peter are saying is how much better off we would be if we are prepared for the worst to happen. That doesn't mean we're not safe here."

In the end, Kenneth accompanied Stephen to the gun shop. He and Andy loaded the weapons, ammunition, even a few extra gadgets and surprises, into the helicopter. Within a matter of a few hours they'd returned and triumphantly unloaded their new cache of weapons.

The rest of the afternoon was spent checking over the entrances to the mall and shoring up any potential weak spots that they'd missed before. Then they began constructing the barricades, using things like bookcases, filing cabinets, and boxes of merchandise from the storage areas of the stores. Everyone worked in pairs or small groups, the morning talk of the zombies outside breaking in making them all nervous to be on their own. The only ones not there to help were Steve, André, and Luda. The former just refusing to do manual labor, the latter two continuing to distance themselves from the others.

In the days that followed, the survivors allowed themselves to be lulled into a sense of security. They all still carried a gun wherever they went, but being alone no longer seemed to scare anyone, even Nicole.

Six days after they had all arrived at the mall reality intruded. It began that night at dinner, as in the nights before, they had all gathered together in the food court with the noticeable exception of André and Luda. It almost felt like a festive occasion, the food and drink flowed steadily. They were sharing stories of their lives prior to the walking dead destroying their lives as they knew them, when the lights went out. Nicole shrieked as Monica and Fran simultaneously uttered, "Are they inside?"

Michael again seemed to take charge, assuming a leadership role he had never wanted in his life. "No they're not inside, it's just the power. Everyone grab some flashlights. Kenneth, we should go see if CJ knows whether or not there's some kind of back-up generator for this place." A short fifteen minutes later, Michael found himself arguing with CJ down at the bottom of the stairwell to the mall's underground employee parking garage.

"Generator's fenced in back by the mall parking shuttles. Good luck," CJ was saying as he turned to walk away.

Michael chambered a round in the rifle he was holding, "Uh uh, the deal was we let you out and you show us the way."

"I ain't going nowhere without a fucking gun," CJ began to say when the sound of another rifle being cocked echoed through the stairwell causing both of them to jump.

Kenneth stood just above them on the stairwell, flanked by Peter, Roger, Andy and Stephen. "If you kids are done playing we should get going." Kenneth stated gruffly,  
walking towards Michael. Looking the latter in the eyes he gestured towards the rifle,  
"You sure you know how to use that?"

Smiling nervously, Michael pointed the small flashlight he held towards the muzzle of the weapon, "Bullets come out of this end, right?"

Kenneth reached over and clicked off the safety, "Now they should." Michael had the good grace to look sheepish as he stepped aside and signaled that Kenneth should take command. CJ still balked over going into the garage unarmed, so Michael turned towards the emergency kit on the wall next to the door. Shattering the glass he removed the fireman's ax from where it hung and handed it to CJ.

"Bart, get the chains," CJ commanded, resigned to the fact that these assholes were finally going to get him killed.

Sticking together closely, Kenneth lead the way into the garage. CJ and Michael followed slightly behind him, guarding the right side of the group, Peter and Stephen did the same from the left. Bart brought up the rear, armed only with a large flashlight. Andy and Roger had been left behind to watch the door, just in case the worst happened. They were a few dozen yards into the parking area when they saw the large smears of blood along the wall nearest them. Almost simultaneously they heard the sound of movement just outside the range of their lights. It seemed to be moving closer, circling all around. Bart was the only one to speak at first. "Shit I hear something! What the fuck is that? It's getting closer!"

As suddenly as it began, the noise stopped. Slowly, from behind a pillar, a black and white dog emerged. Michael dropped to his knees, setting his rifle down beside him. "Hey,  
come here boy," he reached out to pet the dog. "At least now we know that there's probably nothing down here or else they would have eaten him."

Just as Michael finished his statement, a zombie appeared, almost as if out of nowhere. It dropped onto Bart's back, biting into the guard's neck all in one swift movement. Bart screamed in terror, blood spurting from the bite on his neck as he tried to shake the creature loose. Michael attempted to aim at the creature with his rifle, but only succeeded in hitting one of the fire sprinklers overhead. The garage was suddenly filled with the sound of running feet as a pack of snarling zombies came into view, speeding towards them.

"Run!" yelled CJ, taking off full steam towards where the fenced in area housing the generator stood. The others followed, taking shots at the zombie pack as they ran. Bart had managed to throw the zombie off of his back and was stumbling along after the rest of them pleading with CJ for help. He was quickly overtaken by the rest of the pack. CJ looked back just in time to see Bart fall for the final time. 

Stephen also turned to see Bart's final stand, his hesitation proving to be a fatal mistake. As he turned to run towards the gate he momentarily lost his footing, falling to his hands and knees. He half ran, half crawled towards the gate, almost regaining his footing when he was overtaken by the mob. 

From inside the fence, Peter watched Stephen's death in horror for a few seconds, then snapped out of it and began fighting with the others for their very lives. Michael tossed his rifle to CJ and then managed to get a padlock on the fence as the others fired their weapons. Kenneth ran out of ammunition while the others continued to fire, Peter tossed an extra clip towards Kenneth. The zombies just kept coming. Michael scrambled towards one of the fuel pumps, grabbing a nozzle and spraying gasoline towards the fence,  
liberally dousing the zombies outside. "CJ, Peter I need matches!" he yelled. He never saw the zippo that CJ flicked towards the pooling gasoline, he just remembered the sight of the flames leaping up just as the zombies breached the fence. The flames succeeded in slowing them down long enough for Kenneth, Peter and CJ to take them out.

It was a very subdued group that returned to the food court. When they arrived they were met with even further tragedy. Not only had Bart and Stephen been lost, but Norma,  
André and Luda as well.

"What the hell happened," Kenneth demanded.

Ana sighed. "All I can figure is that somehow Luda must have been bit when we arrived,  
maybe that guard that attacked up by the fountain got her, I don't know. But that's why André has been keeping her away from us, she was becoming one of those things. He had her all tied up, even a gag in her mouth to keep her from biting, he must have known..." She paused, fighting tears for the first time in days. "Norma went to check on them for me, take them some more candles, check...check if they were all right." She took a deep breath before continuing on, "Norma killed Luda, André too, but not before he shot her. I killed the monster that Luda gave birth to...it should have been me Michael, not Norma" She'd said the last in a whisper. Michael reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"It wasn't your fault Ana."

Fran finally looked at them from her seat next to Monica. She'd been shell shocked over Luda and her baby, wondering if what had happened to them would end up happening to them would happen to her as well. It was then that she realized who else was missing,  
"Where's Stephen," she asked in a trembling voice.

Peter and Roger looked at each other. "Fran, I'm so sorry, he didn't make it." Roger told her. She just nodded, unable to say anything, still thinking about her unborn child,  
Stephen's child. 


	4. Change of Plans

"Shouldn't we at least say something, this is their funeral!" Monica said, surprising everyone. They'd carried the bodies to the roof to join the others that they'd already heaved over the side. It was then that Ana realized how much of a mother figure Norma had become to Monica, nothing else could have gotten her to speak out about such a thing. 

"How about you Glen, you worked in a church," Ana called out.

"Me? No, I don't believe in God." The old man said, stepping back from where the bodies were now laying.

"There's nothing to say," Kenneth interjected, "All my life I've seen friends, co-workers,  
family die. I always figured it was better them than me. Now I'm not so sure about that. Maybe they were the lucky ones because they're not here sitting, waiting to die. Like I am, like we all are."

"He's right. I don't want to die here," Ana spoke quietly.

"I saw some shuttle buses down in the garage," Michael spoke, "maybe we can reinforce them, use them to get out of here."

"Sure, why don't we just cruise on over to the marina, hop on my boat and go for a pleasure cruise, you fucking jackasses." Steve sneered.

"Wait that's a good idea," Ana said, "there are islands out there that don't have many people on them."

"You're fucking serious! I was joking you morons!" Steve hollered.

CJ looked around at the rest of them. "Wait, let me get this straight. You want to reinforce some parking shuttles with some fuckin' aluminum siding then drive through a city that's more or less a war zone, hop on this asshole's boat," he gestured towards Steve,"and just sail away?"

"Pretty much." Tucker said.

"What the hell, beats sitting around in a cell all day, I'm in."

Fran pointed to the helicopter. "Wouldn't it be a better idea if we used the helicopter to try to locate a safe island first?"

"But we can't fly it Fran, we don't know how," Terry said.

"I can," she answered, "Stephen's been teaching me how. I guess this will be my first real solo flight." She tried to smile at him, wanting badly to prove that she was as strong as any of them.

Andy looked towards her. "Need a co-pilot Fran? I flew these things in the army, I think I can remember how it's done."

"Okay then, let's get this business taken care of, I think we've got some plans to make." Michael declared.

They put their escape plans into action the next day. Andy and Fran took off in the helicopter in search of an island that would act as their safe haven. The rest of the group began their work on the parking shuttles. While Kenneth and CJ began ripping the seats out of the shuttles, Peter and Roger began removing security gates from some of the stores to be cut and welded to the sides of the bus. Terry and Glen hauled the gates to the garage. Ana and Monica worked on collecting the list of equipment the guys had put together for them from the stores to be brought down to the parking garage. Tucker began cutting down the razor wire from the top of the fence outside the fuel pumps, planning on adding it to the top of the buses. Nicole tried to stay out of they way, keeping herself busy playing with the dog she'd named Chips. Steve retired to the roof of the mall to work on his golf swing.

The next few days continued with this pattern. Andy and Fran flying out in the morning in search of an island, the rest trying to get the parking shuttles finished.

On the third morning, Andy had announced that he was going to try to find some fuel for the helicopter. Roger and Peter insisted that Fran remain at the mall while they accompanied him. "Fran, if we land for fuel and things get hairy we need people out there who can handle themselves. Roger and I have experience doing things like this, you don't," Peter declared.

"But Peter," she began, Roger cutting her off before she could say more.

"Fran you have to think about the baby." At her incredulous look he explained, "Stephen told me, the night we flew outta Philly. You and Pete were asleep."

The three of them flew out with no further protest. Ana pulled Fran aside to talk. "Why didn't you say anything sooner Fran?"

Sighing, Fran lit a cigarette, "Don't look at me like that Ana. We both know that there's no guarantee that I'm going to live long enough to have this baby so I don't want to hear any lectures about the dangers of smoking."

"You didn't answer my question."

"If you must know, I didn't want to be treated any different from the rest of the group. Stephen and I didn't want to say anything, we were having a hard enough time as it was. And he..." She trailed off unable to continue, tears forming in her eyes as she thought of her dead lover.

"Fran, I'm so sorry," Ana reached out and hugged her. "We don't have to talk about this now. Okay?" Fran pulled away, nodding as she wiped away her tears. Ana fought back some tears of her own as she continued, "Just remember, if you need to talk, I'm here. Now, why don't we head on down to the garage, see if we can help the guys out with the shuttles." They began walking slowly towards the elevators, each lost in their own thoughts.


	5. New Orders

On board the helicopter Andy suggested to the others, "There's an airfield about twenty maybe thirty miles north of town I think we should try. It's something like those country airports you were talking about hitting on the way out here." 

As they flew out of the city they failed to notice the two Blackhawk helicopters sitting atop a high-rise apartment building nearby, or the two camouflage clad figures watching them through binoculars. "What do you think Sarge," asked one.

"I think they must be part of the group hiding out at that mall that Davis told us about,  
and from the looks of their course, I'd say they're heading towards our fuel depot. Go get the others, we've got some work to do."

PFC Walker watched for a moment as she walked away. Only the eight of them had made it out of Ft. Pastor alive as far as they knew. Besides himself and Sergeant First Class Briggs, there were two Warrant Officers, Davis and Masters, two Sergeants by the names of Ramirez and Randall, Specialist Steele and the mysterious civilian named Henry who rounded out the group. Briggs and Masters had arrived at Ft. Pastor only two days before the first reports of infection broke through, back when they were still calling the attacks "random civil disobedience."

Although assigned to different units who were supposed to be performing the search and rescue operations, somehow Briggs and Masters had been able to secure two Blackhawks, plus get them loaded with supplies. He still wasn't sure how he and the others ended up on the helicopters that day when the post fell to those zombies, but he was alive and right now that was all that mattered. Their little fuel depot was another puzzle altogether. It was large enough for both Blackhawks to land and refuel at the same time, the fuel pumps surrounded by a ring of shatterproof glass. Outside of that appeared to be high tensile electric fencing. It definitely kept the zombies at bay, not that Briggs would allow them to test it by staying there any longer than necessary.

Since Ft. Pastor had fallen they'd been combing the area, ostensibly for possible survivors,  
sleeping on rooftops that they'd secured. Yet they hadn't even discussed the survivors that had been sighted at a mall by Davis himself the just before Ft. Pastor had fallen, not even mentioned them in passing. Sooner or later there would have to be some answers, but right now, the Sarge seemed to be calling the shots and the rest of them obeyed without question. Walker reached the others and called out, "Hey, Briggs wants us all by the choppers ASAP."

"Walker man, you have a wonderful ability to ruin a girl's beauty sleep," groaned Randall. The others ignored her as they stowed their gear, Masters and Henry heading to the helicopters together. Randall gestured towards their departing backs, "So am I the only one who gets a strange feeling about those two and the Sarge?"

"Nah girl, something is definitely not right with that bunch. I think they know a lot more than they're saying, but as long as they keep my ass alive, I guess they can keep their secrets." Ramirez replied as he packed up the last of his gear.

"What about you Davis, got any ideas about them," she continued to press.

The pilot just looked at her for a moment, almost as if he was considering saying something, but then turned on his heel to follow Ramirez leaving Randall alone with the remaining woman in their group, Specialist Steele.

Steele spoke as soon as the others were out of ear shot, "I'd find a new topic of conversation if you want to stay alive."

"You threatening me?"

"Nope, just giving you a friendly piece of advice, those guys are not people you want to cross," she said while stowing the last of her gear. "And they have eyes and ears everywhere so you should be very careful what you say and to who it is you say it," she finished before she too began hurrying towards the others.

Randall sat in shock for a moment. She'd thought there was just three of them to worry about, now she wasn't sure if there was anyone in their little group that could be trusted. She hurried to answer Briggs' bidding, not wanting end up any further on that one's shit list.

The soldiers were all assembled around the Blackhawks, waiting for Briggs to finish talking with the pilots. At last she looked their way. "I'm sure you're all aware that earlier search and rescue teams spotted survivors at the Crossroads Mall approximately 2 weeks ago, give or take. We've been under orders from command to leave them while we searched for more survivors, which as you know has been a bust. Command now wants us to evacuate those survivors and return to operations HQ." She paused, waiting for the questions to start. Randall did not disappoint her.

"Wait a minute Sarge, what the hell do you mean Command giving us orders and returning to operations headquarters?"

"Our entire mission has been under the directive of Brigadier General Timmons who is running operations from HQ located on Gull Island."

"When was this HQ set up?" Walker cut in, "I've been assigned to Ft. Pastor for the last 6 months, ever since I got out of AIT, and I've never heard about a post located on Gull Island."

"HQ was set up at a research facility normally run by the Department of Agriculture to combat the spread of diseases in domestic livestock.," Briggs replied.

"You didn't answer his question. When was this headquarters established?" Randall called out, not even bothering to keep the hostility from her voice.

This time it was Henry who answered. "Three weeks ago. It had been hoped that the contagion would be able to be contained before it spread this far, but obviously it didn't work out."

"That would mean there was prior knowledge that this was going to happen," Walker said in a near whisper, "Why didn't we warn people? We could have stopped this from happening!"

"Bureaucratic red tape, the White House didn't want to create a panic. They were mislead that this thing was going to be easily contained, but human nature being what it is, instead of being able to stop it, we helped it to spread like wildfire," Henry finished.

"So I take it you're not just some lucky ass civilian who managed to hop a chopper out of Ft. Pastor then are you?" Randall asked Henry.

"Who I am remains classified soldier, but no, I'm not a civilian."

"We need to get airborne, collect those civilians, and return to post. Any more questions will have to wait until then," Briggs declared, "Davis, you take Walker, Ramirez and Randall. The rest of you are with me." With that, she turned to climb aboard one of the Blackhawks, the rest of her crew moving to join her. Davis also hastened to his Blackhawk, the remaining group slowly following.

"I can't believe that that bitch drops a bomb like that and doesn't give us anymore information." Randall exploded to no one in particular.


	6. Revelations

"So if there's a barricaded source of fuel sitting out there, then that means someone else is alive. Right?" Terry asked with confusion. 

"Terry, I think you're missing the point," Kenneth said.

"What point?"

"That someone had the equipment and the means to set something like that up. And it definitely wasn't something spur of the moment. Setting up those shatter proof panels and wiring up the fencing took time." Peter stated, deep in thought about what they'd seen today. "So it's not really a matter of someone else having survived. It's a question of who they are and what they know about everything that's gone down."

"What makes you think they know something about what's been happening?" Nicole asked, taking a seat next to Terry.

"It's got to have something to do with the government, or the military, someone in a position to abuse power." Fran muttered. She'd worked in television news as a producer for long enough to recognize a potential story as it emerged. This would have been a great Emmy winning story ofcover-ups, probably involving some illegal biochemical weapons shit.

"This doesn't really change anything," Ana stated quietly.

"What was that Ana?" Michael asked, as usual, he'd maneuvered himself to a spot near her.

"I said it doesn't change anything. These guys still managed to get our helicopter fueled up so there's no reason to change our plans. In fact, it might allow us all to fly out of here in groups, no buses, no boats. How do we know that whoever set up those fuel pumps the way they did are still alive? And if they are, who says they didn't purposely do it to help out people like us?"

"She's got a point," Michael declared. "Unless something concrete changes we should move forward with our plans. How are things coming with the island hunt?"

"We've only got about three islands left to check out, Harper, Craggy, and Gull. The rest we've checked all had those things on them. If none of the three check out, I'd say we head towards Spencer Island, it looked like it had the smallest population ofcreatures on it, we could probably take them out, secure it for ourselves until this all blows over," Andy told them.

Michael nodded and declared, "Well that's it then, let's get back to work."

"I don't think that will be necessary," an unfamiliar voice rang out.

Almost as one, the group from the mall whirled to look. On the far side of the food court,  
slowly coming into view was a small group of camouflage clad soldiers, all with weapons at the ready. The woman in the lead spoke again. "We're here to get you all out." The soldiers came to a halt, spread in a half moon position, around the mall survivors. "Who's in command here," the woman spoke again.

Michael stepped forward. "There's no one 'in command' we're all just trying to help each other stay alive."

Sighing, the woman slung her rifle over her shoulder and reached up to remove her kevlar,  
revealing auburn hair. She stepped closer, taking in the survivors with piercing blue eyes. "I'm Sergeant Briggs, my team is here to airlift you to our operations headquarters where you'll be safe." As she spoke three more people arrived from the direction of the stairs. Kenneth couldn't contain his shock.

"Henry!" He pushed past the soldiers, who tightened their grips on their weapons, and wrapped the equally large black man, clad in civilian clothing unlike the rest of his party, in a huge embrace. "I thought you were dead, when I heard that the Fort had fallen..."

The other man smiled, returning the embrace, pounding Kenneth on the back. The others could only stare as they recognized the resemblance between the two men. "It's all right brother, I made it out just fine."

"Where are you going to take us," Nicole asked, her voice shaking.

"We have a secure location on Gull Island that we're using as our base of operations," Briggs replied, finally signaling her troops to lower their weapons.

"Why's it taken you so long to get here?" Kenneth asked, looking his brother in the eyes.

"Your location was spotted just before Ft. Pastor fell," he replied, "it looked to be relatively secure, and all teams were under orders to concentrate on those in more dire need of airlift. And with what happened at the Fort, you were definitely better off here Bro."

"How did the post fall?" Fran demanded, "You're supposed to be the goddamn military,  
professionals, why couldn't you keep the post and the people on it safe?"

"For the same reasons that medical and aid facilities were the first to be overrun. The injured were brought in for treatment, either people couldn't put two and two together fast enough and realize that the bites were how the plague was spreading, or human nature took over," Briggs responded.

"Human nature?" Ana sounded a little shell shocked, thinking of her friends, co-workers in the medical field for the first time, and what must have happened to them.

"It's a fact of life that human nature dictates to most that they try to help the sick and the injured. And most people can't face the idea of watching a family member, a loved one, be shot in the head even if they are technically a walking corpse already. They allow their emotions to rule their judgment, and in the end, they ended up dead too."

There was a moment of silence from everyone following her cold-hearted, yet on target assessment of the situation. Thoughts of how André had worked so hard to keep Luda's infection a secret from the rest of them just to bring his child into the worldspoke volumes, all backing up every word she had just said. Finally Michael asked, "So are you the ones who put the barricades up around the fuel pumps."

"Nah, Command took care of that, let us know about it's existence when we were given our directives to continue the search and rescue operations. The barricades were put up at the same time the Gull Island facility was appropriated, once we knew that the contagion had spread beyond the East coast,far more rapidly than the braniacs seemed to have thought it would, plus, it seemed to be mutating over time as well."

"What do you mean the facility on Gull Island was appropriated?" asked Peter, suspicious of the soldiers in front of them.

"The facility was formerly under the control of the Department of Agriculture, a research facility for the study and prevention of diseases in domesticated animals."

This time one of the soldiers spoke, Randall, according to the name on her uniform. "Don't you think it's about time you came clean with the whole story Sarge. How many of your own troops know anything about secret facilities, and command directives?"

Henry and Briggs exchanged a look. "Do you want to handle this or should I," Henry asked.

"I got it." Looking around the room, Briggs grabbed a chair, swung it around, straddled the seat and leaned forward, her arms folded across the back before beginning her story. "Just over three weeks ago a canister of an experimental agent was damaged en route to a testing facility off the east coast. According to the biochemists in charge of the testing, the agent went airborne, contaminating everything within a 10 to 15 mile radius before it dissipated. Until the first reports of illness began showing up they thought the effects would be minimal, it wasn't supposed to be transmittable like a regular airborne virus, but that's how it appears to have spread. The symptoms of infection started slowly, affecting people differently.Had we acted sooner, in all likelihood it could have been contained. By the time the chemical whiz kids realized what was happening, it was too late. You see the initial gestation periods varied, the closer to the spill the victim was, the faster they died and became reanimated, but it took us awhile to catch on. The next round of victims, those the originals had bit, showed us that gestation periods varied based off of the location and severity of the bite. Anything in close proximity to the heart, neck wounds, that kind of thing, could take a person over in a matter of minutes. Lesser bites to the extremities, it could be days before the infection spread severely enough for a person to die and come back. Much like your typical virus, the weak and the young also proved to be more quickly affected."

"You said that it appeared to mutate," Peter cut in, "how so?"

"When the first victims started to become reanimated, they were slow, stiff, almost like they were battling rigor mortis to keep moving."

"Like the ones we saw in Philly," Roger said.

Briggs ignored him and continued, "As the virus continued to spread throughout the country, the victims were different, like the ones outside this mall. They began showing more speed, quicker reflexes, it's almost hard to believe that they really are the walking dead. Well, exceptfor the smell."

"How do you know so much?" queried Ana.

"I'm not regular Army, actually, up until this all started up I hadn't been Army for almost 7 years. The government reactivated me to duty, kinda pink slipped me from my real job. Masters over there was brought in at the same time I was, same situation, Henry was just about to be activated to the Corp when Pastor fell."

"What is your actual job?"

"That I can't say, and it's kind of an irrelevant point now anyway, for all intents and purposes, I'm now Army."

"You didn't answer my question about who else knew about this 'Sarge'," Randall spat.

"Masters and Henry as I already said. Davis and Steele were also part of our original team. We lost three of our people during the fall of Pastor, so we made the executive decision to replace them with you three," she pointed in the direction of Randall, Ramirez and Walker. "You'd shown you were capable of handling yourselves when you managed to make it to the helipads in one piece, and we needed the manpower."

There was silence for a few moments, everyone trying to fully take in and understand what they'd just been told.

Tucker finally spoke from where he sat at the Hallowed Grounds bar. "So what happens now."

"We'll take you back to HQ and you'll be kept safe until we can bring this thing under control," Henry stated. "If you're all ready, we can get airborne and be there by nightfall."


	7. Seeds of Suspicion

The sun was just beginning to set has they descended upon Gull Island. The fenced in research facility was surrounded by a similar barricade as the fuel depot on the mainland. There were creatures just outside of the perimeter, maybe about a hundred of them, circling the barricades. Two more helicopters sat inside the security of the fences, but there were no visible signs of life. The Blackhawks along with the news helicopter set down alongside the others. About a hundred meters from where they sat the ground appeared to open, a group of armed soldiers appearing on some elevator like contraption. 

" It's about time ya'll showed up," drawled a blond headed soldier leading the group.

Briggs smiled for the first time that day, "Sorry Cowboy, some of us were actually out there getting our hands dirty, not wallowing in the lap of luxury." She spread her arms wide, gesturing to the building complex behind him.

He smiled in return. "Why don't you bring the kids on down to the nursery and then you can brief us on the situation."

"Okay people, you heard him, climb aboard and we'll head on down to command," she called over her shoulder. Stepping forward she clapped the blonde soldier on the shoulder and the two continued speaking quietly. Masters and Davis stepped around the mall survivors and joined them.

Henry spoke to his brother, "Come on Kenneth, let's get your people loaded up. It's gonna be okay brother, we'll keep everyone safe now."

After everyone had climbed aboard the elevator it began to descend below the surface again. They all took their last look around at the outside, not knowing what to expect below. When they came to a stop at the bottom, the doors overhead began to close, cutting off their view of the blue skies overhead. They began to look around at their surroundings, seeing the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, leading away down a hall. The blonde soldier that Briggs called Cowboy took the lead, she accompanied him along with Masters and Davis.

"So what's the sit-rep Cowboy?" They heard Briggs ask as the group began making their way down the hallway, the soldiers who had accompanied'Cowboy' bringing up the rear, as if to ensure they didn't try to take the elevator back up.

"We've got 125 military personnel here right now, not including your merry band, about a dozen researchers, and whatever survivors could be brought in, plus some of the original staff from the facility. We're occupying strictly the underground levels of this place, just in case those things manage to get through our defenses up there. We have four patrols that watch things from the upper buildings, 10 men pulling 12 hour shifts, one day on, one day off. The researchers are working on a vaccine to defend people against those things, at least the lesser bites and such. They managed to contain a couple of the infected for them to study, they keep themback where they used to house the research animals. The survivors we're just trying to keep alive until this thing is over."

"What about the patrols? Why aren't we still sending out the search and rescue teams?" Masters asked.

"Ya'll are our last team left out there, Team Two arrived back 4 days ago, we lost contact with the other three."

"When," Briggs asked.

"The last time Team Fourcommunicated, they were going in to try to pull some survivors out of a church on one of the islands, no word from them since."

"And the other two," she pressed.

"It's been more than a week since we heard from them, official status is missing, presumed dead."

The two were silent for a few moments while Briggs digested this latest information. "How many total do you have here, including the survivors?"

"I told you what we have as far as military and researchers. We don't seem to have an accurate head count on the civilians that have been brought in, they've been put in the care of the researchers so they could be watched for signs of infection, some of them came in needing medical attention for other injuries. It seems like every day they give us a different head count," Cowboy replied. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's the Brigadier say about that."

"Says that it's not our concern, our responsibility ended once we got them brought in here."

Roger and Peter had been listening to this exchange as they followed them down the hallway. Along the way they passed closed doors, some marked, others with windows. Roger gestured at their surroundings as he leaned closer to Peter so nobody else could hear what he said. "What do you make of this place?"

Peter thought for a moment before responding. "I don't like it, something here isn't making sense. Did you see all those creatures outside the barricades?"

"What about them?"

"Some of them had lab coats on, uniforms, I think I even saw I.D. badges hanging from a few of them."

"So?"

"They looked like they were probably the employees from this place. And if that's the case, how did they end up infected and on the island? Didn't that red-headed bitch say something about taking this place over three weeks ago?"

"Yes, but I don't see what your getting at."

"Supposedly they took this place over before the infection spread out of control here, if that's the case, then why are they all dressed like they're coming to work?"

Roger looked at him sharply, "You think they been lying to us?"

"I don't know man, but nothing they've told us so far has added up. I don't like it, I think we were better off on our own at the mall."

The group came to a halt before a large double door marked 'Cafeteria A,' and Cowboy spoke again. "This is where we've set up some temporary quarters for ya'll," he spoke to the group of civilians, "we've got the rest of the survivors that have been brough in set up in various locations, empty supply rooms, another cafeteria, that kind of thing. We're trying to put together some more permanent housing arrangements for ya'll." He opened up the doors and they saw cots set up along a wall. "They may be moving some of you around later, but right now ya'll will bunk here together. There are some other community type areas being set up for you, but when moving around the facility you must have an escort at all times."

"You make it sound like we're prisoners here," Kenneth said, glancing at his brother before focusing on Cowboy again, awaiting his reply. The others all turned toward him as well, feeling much the same as Kenneth about their new situation.

"No, that's absolutely not true. The biochemists have warned us that some of the rooms that were formerly used to house the research animals here may still be contaminated with the diseases they were studying. We're requesting all the civilians we've brought to the facility be accompanied by an escort just to keep any accidental exposure from occurring."

It was a tidy, plausible explanation. Kenneth didn't buy it for a minute. Looking around he saw that none of the others seemed to convinced either. Even Briggs and her group seemed a little put off by what they had just heard. Cowboy spoke again. "Now, if ya'll would like to head on in and get settled, Privates Marshall and Evans will be outside the doors if you need anything. The rest of you will accompany me for debriefing."


	8. Disappearances

The next week passed in sort of a blur. The research doctors subjected them all to complete physical exams and a whole barrage of blood tests. They began dividing up their time between the gym and playing card games when they weren't being pulled off in pairs for the testing. They were just starting their second week there when Tucker and Andy disappeared with two of the researchers. Nobody thought anything about it at first, what with all the tests and screenings they had all been subjected too. But then the two men didn't come back. The rest of the group were told that they were being quarantined and would be brought back pending further tests. 

Late into the nightfollowing the disappearance of Andy and Tucker, the remaining group members talked. "There was nothing wrong with either of them, we lived with them both for weeks, they never showed any signs of being infected," Ana said.

"We're all agreed on that Ana, what we need to find out is where they've been taken and how we can get out of here," Michael told her.

"I knew there was something suspicious about this place, besides each other and those assholes who've been poking and prodding us, does anyone remember seeing any other civilians when you've been out of this room?" asked Peter.

"Nah Brother, just military. And usually it's the ones we came here with or the jokers that greeted us, never any new faces," added Kenneth.

"Face it we're nothing but prisoners Peter. I can't believe I was eager to come here. I thought everything would be fine once we found more people, but this is just wrong!" Fran groused.

"I can try talking to KN about it," CJ added, unusually quiet.

"KN? Who's KN? One of the guards?" Kenneth demanded.

"Briggs."

"That red-headed bitch?" Steve laughed. The rest of the group looked a little shocked at the thought of CJ befriending Briggs.

"Yea, that's her," CJ said. "She's in the weight room a lot when I go in there, we've talked a little, I don't know, maybe she knows something."

"And she's just gonna tell you 'cause she's in to balding rednecks is that it? Hey, maybe she'll even take you away from all this shit. Get real, she's the one responsible for dragging our asses here in the first place so why the fuck would she help us escape."

Monica glared at him. "Do you have to be an asshole all the time Steve? At least he's trying to find a way to help us out here, not prancing around like a fucking prima donna because he's too scared to do anything else."

"I think it's the best idea any of us have come up with," Ana said, hoping to diffuse the situation with Steve. He was an asshole, but right now they couldn't afford to be fighting among each other, not when they weren't sure what was going on outside of the cafeteria. As was usual, Michael supported her.

"She's right. CJ, how soon would you feel an urge to lift some weights?"

He smiled, "I think I'm suffering from a bad case of insomnia now, maybe lifting a few weights would help me sleep."

Ana looked at him, "What makes you think she'll be in the gym now?" She looked at the clock on the wall, "It's two in the morning."

"She mentioned that she works out when she can't sleep, and she's a lifelong insomniac."

Steve couldn't resist butting in again. "Well, looks like you and the good Sarge are quite the little buddies then, what with her telling you about something like that. If you actually believe her that is, I mean, what with her and her pals record of telling us the truth..." He trailed off.

CJ looked at him for a moment then stood up and started walking towards the door, "If I'm not back in a few hours you assholes better come looking for me." With that he pounded lightly on the door, waiting for one of the guards to open it. As it swung open a crack he said, "I can't sleep, I want to go to the gym." Just like that he disappeared.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Ana asked Michael, sitting down beside him on one of the cots. He put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him slightly.

"Yea, he'll be fine." They sat together for a few minutes more, drawing what comfort they could from each other. They watched as some of the others began to climb on their cots, finally unable to fight off sleep any longer. "You should get some sleep too Ana."

"I'm afraid to close my eyes right now, I keep thinking I'll wake up and somebody else will be missing." Michael hugged her again, silently sharing her fears. Then he looked to where Roger was sitting, randomly shuffling a deck of cards over and over.

"Hey Roger, you and Peter up for some cards?" He smiled at Ana, "What do you think? We can wait for CJ to come back together." She returned his smile and together they walked over and joined Roger at a table, Peter followed.

Kenneth was the only other one still awake. He sat on his cot staring towards the door,  
wondering about what his brother had gotten him into. He hadn't seen Henry since they'd arrived.


	9. Allies

As CJ entered the gym he heard some familiar music blasting from the direction of the weight room. There was no mistaking the sound of Rammstein. And that meant he was right about Briggs being in there, in the last week every time he'd encountered her in the gym she'd been listening to Rammstein. He walked into the weight room, heading towards the free weights, nodding towards Briggs who on the opposite side of the room. Now that he was actually in there with her he desperately tried to think of a way to ask what he needed to know. 

"Hey CJ," she suddenly called across the room, "can you spot me?" She was gesturing towards the bench press.

"Yea, no problem." He walked her way, still trying to think of how to ask about Andy and Tucker. Finally he just decided to just be up front about it.

She was sitting on the bench when he reached her. "Can I ask you something KN?"

She smiled, and it was hard for him to remember what a bitch she could be when she did that. "Shoot man."

"Two of my friends didn't come back from the labs today. You wouldn't know anything about why they're keeping them would you?"

She sighed, "Nah man, nothing." She ran her fingers through her hair, angling her head towards the corner of the room, watching him. Sighing again, she tilted her head towards the corner again as if stretching her neck, this time though, she angled her eyes towards the corner of the room too, hoping he'd get her meaning. It was like watching a light bulb suddenly flash on when he finally noticed the surveillance camera mounted discreetly in the corner.

He nodded then, "Just let me know when you're ready to start."

"Let me grab a drink first." She reached for a bottle of water that she'd set at the foot of the bench, it tipped and rolled towards CJ, instinctively he bent to retrieve it. She leaned forward at the same time, her mouth coming close to his ear, whispering, "They're watching, follow me when I go, we'll talk where it's secure." He handed her the bottle, hoping the shock he was feeling wasn't mirrored on his face. She was actually going to help him. "

Thanks," she said. After taking a drink, she set the bottle down again and took position on the bench. They spent the next hour spotting for each other and using the various machines that the gym had to offer. Finally, Briggs yawned and said, "Well, I think I'm finally done for the night. Or I guess I should say morning. You need an escort back to your quarters? It's on my way."

Guessing she was putting on a show for the cameras CJ responded, "Yea, that'd be good,  
I'm ready to call it a nightmyself. Besides, you're a lot better looking escort than that Evans guy." As soon as he said it he felt like hitting his head against the nearest wall, thinking to himself, 'Great CJ, piss off the person you're asking for help.'

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Wow, end of the world and you're trying to pick me up?" Then she laughed. "Come on rent-a-cop, let's go."

Together they exited the gym. Private Evans was waiting to escort CJ back. Briggs looked at him and said, "Take a hike Junior, I've got the baby-sitting detail for you," glancing down at her watch she continued, "the chow hall should be open, why don't you go grab some breakfast I'll cover till you get back." With that she started walking, motioning for CJ to join her.

He started to speak when they were out of Evans' earshot, but she shook her head, they walked further, turning a corner where she stopped at a door, looking closely at the frame before opening it and motioning him inside. She looked both ways down the hall before closing the door. "There's no surveillance in here at the moment, so it should be safe to talk." He looked around trying to get an idea of where they were at. "My quarters." She supplied before he could ask.

"So do you know what happened to my friends?"

"I'm not certain, but there's some pretty bad shit going on down here"

"What do you mean bad shit?"

"Our operations commander has turned control of you civilians over to the researchers. The head researcher is a sick fuck by the name of Franklin Steiner, if you can believe that."

"Frankenstein." CJ half laughed.

"More or less. Anyways, as near as we've been able to figure, we suspect that Steiner and his peons are using survivors like you and your friends for guinea pigs."

"How so? Who is 'we' and what the fuck is going on!"

"Keep your voice down in case you've forgot we're trying to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Now then, when we arrived, Cowboy said that the researchers had managed to contain a couple of those creatures for study. What he didn't say at the time was how they got them. Turns out that they were two of the last animal caretakers left here at the facility, and they were purposely exposed to the same chemical that started all this shit.The vaccine that they're working on, they've been injecting it into selected civilians who've been brought in and then putting them in the pens with those creatures to see what happens. As for who 'we' are, that'd me, Cowboy, Masters, Davis, Steele, your friend Kenneth's brother Henry, and Marshall."

"So you're telling me that Andy and Tucker are as good as dead." It was more a statement than a question.

"I don't know for certain, but I'm not going to jack you around, it's not looking to good. Now,  
we better get going before someone gets suspicious. I'll try to keep you informed on what we learn concerning your friends."

"One more question before we go."

"Make it fast, we've already spent more time than we should have."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

She paused for a moment, then answered, "I've been killing people most of my adult life,  
it was my job and for the best interests of my country," she gave him a rueful smile, "or at least that's what my superiors told me. But this is something different, it's like cold blooded murder. After all this shit that's gone down, I can't stand by and watch this kind of pointless slaughter, not when the human race is on the verge of wiping itself out already. Now let's go."

CJ followed her out of the room, watching as she paused and did something to the door frame again. At his questioning look she said, "I don't like people invading my privacy, they'll still try to plant their bugs, but when they see this, they know I'm expecting it." With that cryptic remark she began walking away, CJ hurried to catch up.

"So what are you gonna say if they notice how long it took us to get back?"

She looked at him and grinned, "That your a decent fuck who makes up for having an appalling lack of stamina in other areas." CJ couldn't keep his jaw from dropping. "Relax rent-a-cop." They walked the rest of the way in silence.


	10. Plans

After returning CJ to the cafeteria, Briggs grabbed a quick shower and a few hours of sleep before seeking out Henry and Cowboy. "Poker game in my quarters, 1700 hours," was all she said to them before continuing on her way to the communications center where Steele had managed to get herself assigned, and telling her the same thing. It was a code they had all agreed upon during their first week on Gull Island, which, once said, put their escape planning into action. The message was passed on to the remaining co-conspirators in their group, telling them all that the time had come to put together the information they had each individually acquired. 

Sergeant Randall overheard Steele, who'd gone ostensibly in search of coffee after her visit from Briggs, informing Marshall about the supposed poker game. "My my my Steele, aren't you going to invite all of your teammates to Briggs' little game," she all but sneered. She was still pissed off that Briggs hadn't told her sooner about this place. And even more so because by being excluded like this it proved she wasn't truly a part of their team. In her mind, since she held more rank than the woman in front of her, she should have been included in everything from the beginning, afterall, it was Briggs herself who had said that she was unofficially a replacement for someone who had been killed.

Steele looked at her coolly for about a half-second before replying, "Oooh, sorry Randall,  
we have a two bitch limit for our card game. Me and the Sarge have already got that covered so you'll have to find someone else to annoy tonight." Smiling, she walked away without waiting for Randall to respond.

Randall eyed the other woman's retreating back, then turned to Marshall. Smiling up at the tall, dark haired soldier she practically purred, "Wouldn't you like me to come and uh,  
play with you tonight? Maybe let me in on all your little secrets, well, what I don't already know that is." She hoped he wouldn't call her bluff on that and continued, "I could help you you know, I mean, I helped Steele and the others escape from Ft. Pastor now didn't I."

Marshall narrowed his eyes at her, not believing for a moment that she knew anything about their plans. According to what he had learned after they had arrived, Randall had been brought along solely because she had had enough foresight to make it to the helipads before Pastor had fallen. He decided to play dumb, kinda like Cowboy with his good ole' boy southern drawls routine, and find out exactly what she thought she knew. "If you know my secrets then why the hell would you want to play cards with me?"

It worked, Randall was taken off guard with that comment, expecting something else entirely. "What are you talking about?"

"You said you knew my secrets. That means you know I cheat when I play poker, right?  
That I like to deal from the bottom? I'm surprised you'd want to still join us knowing that. Or are you hoping I'll cut you in for something if you don't tell anyone? We don't play for money you know."

"Oh, no, I meant about you and the others, what you're all doing, the secret plans," she tried again.

"Unless you're talking about Cowboy trying to get into Briggs' pants, I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting at. And as for the rest of us guys, well we're kinda partial to the idea that Briggs might be batting for our team. Not sure what Steele thinks about it yet though, I mean, since she'd be the one that Briggs is after and all."

Randall stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about Marshall?"

"I thought you said you knew all about it?" He feigned surprise at the idea she may have been lying, while hoping he would be able to keep a straight face until he could make his escape.

"I do.." Randall started to stammer.

"Then you know all about Cowboy wanting to get Briggs in the sack and the rest of us thinking she's a lesbian. 'Course watching a little girl on girl action might be wishful thinking on our parts though, gotta have something to look forward to sitting around here baby-sitting a bunch of civilians all day. Now then, if you'll excuse me I need to get back to my post." He walked off, just barely making it outside the door before he broke into laughter.

Randall stood there in silence for a moment wondering. Walking towards a table, coffee mug in hand she shook her head mentally. It couldn't be something that simple, not with that bunch. Secrets were their trade. And after the way they'd excluded her from their little group wouldn't it be fun to outsmart them all. She thought about everything Marshall had just said, and everything else that had happened in the last few weeks, getting more and more angry in the process.

She sat there for a while longer, sipping her coffee and making plans to bring Briggs and her group down.


	11. Crosswords

Back in Cafeteria A the rest of the group was eager to question CJ after he'd returned. This time he was more alert about his surroundings, taking in the two surveillance cameras concealed inconspicuously in corners, the shining red record light being the only give away. Knowing about the surveillance now, he knew he had to keep Briggs out of it, or else there'd be no help for them at all. He shook his head as he loudly proclaimed, "Sorry guys, she didn't know anything." 

He glanced around the room, trying to come up with a way to tell the others about what he'd learned, without tipping off the people watching them. Finally his eyes came to rest on a crossword puzzle book that someone had left lying on a table. He walked over and grabbed it up, finding a pen stuck neatly inside marking a page. He walked over to his cot and sat down, looking for all the world like a man absorbed in doing a crossword puzzle. The others were amazed.

"Is this really the time to be working a fucking puzzle?" Kenneth asked, looking more angry than any of them could ever remember seeing him.

"It helps me relax man," CJ replied, still focused on the crossword. "Hey Michael, what's a seven-letter word for hidden truth?"

Looking surprised, Michael said, "I don't know, secret maybe."

"Nah it doesn't fit with the other letters, here, see for yourself." CJ tossed the book to Michael, page still marked by the pen inside.

Instinctively Michael looked down at the page, seeing the writing there. It wasn't answers to the puzzle, but a message, 'They're spying on us, be careful what you say,' was written in the squares.

Ana, who was looking over his shoulder suddenly said, "You're right CJ, it doesn't fit, I think you have one of the other answers wrong." Taking the book and pen from Michael,  
she sat down next to him staring at the book, finally writing something in it herself. 'What do you know?'

"Here," she said, handing the book back to CJ, "Secret should work in there now."

"Thanks Ana, looks like you're pretty good with these things. If you want to work on one yourself when I'm done I'll give the book to you."

"Thanks, maybe I will."

She and Michael looked at each other, their minds reeling at the implication of CJ's words. The others just looked at the three of them like they were crazy. CJ continued to 'work' on the crossword for awhile longer, yawning all the while. Finally he appeared to be finished.

"I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep now. The books yours if you want it Ana." CJ held it out towards where she sat with Michael, the two of them reached for it together.

Michael smiled, "Maybe we can work on it together."

The last thing CJ saw before he drifted off to sleep was the two of them sitting together on the cot. They looked for all the world like a happy couple just doing a crossword puzzle to kill time. Silently he hoped he was as good of an actor as the two of them seemed to be.


	12. Fact Finding

Steele had returned to her post in the communications center after the confrontation with Randall. She had been working on hacking into the mainframe of the facility where the researchers were supposedly storing all their data regarding the plague to see what kind of information she could gather. So far nothing earth shattering had been revealed. 

The sound of footsteps drawing close to the door caused her to bring a sudden end to her searches. When the unfamiliar soldier arrived, followed by two more heavily laden with boxes, she was playing a game of solitaire on the computer, appearing suitably bored out her mind.

"Specialist Steele," the one in the lead called to her.

Seeing the Lieutenant's bar on his collar for the first time, she stood and saluted. "Sir."

He turned to the two men following him, "Place the files on Spec. Steele's desk and return to your duties."

"Yes sir."

"Specialist Steele, since you seem to have so much time on your hands," he gestured towards the solitaire game still displayed on her monitor, "I've got some extra work for you. These are hard copies of all the communications we've received both from internal and external units since setting up operations here. Destroy them."

"Excuse me sir?" She was intrigued, what could be so important that these assholes wanted them erased.

"Destroy them, command doesn't want any unnecessary records. Do you understand Specialist?"

Without hesitation she answered, "Affirmative sir." This time she hoped she would find the jackpot she'd been looking for.

He nodded and proceeded to leave the office. She started lugging a few of the files over to the paper shredder that was housed in the adjoining copy machine room. Opening the first file, she began perusing through the first page, seeing nothing but supply requisitions. Flipping through the rest of the stack in her hand she saw they were all the same, supply requisitions in triplicate. The next couple of stacks revealed similar information, the only interesting one being about the requisition of materials for what had become their fuel depot and the barricades outside of this facility.

Sighing she headed back for more files. The next batch contained a little more information, communications regarding the five search and rescue teams. Reports on the areas they'd covered, the number of civilians that had been spotted and retrieved. She was almost to the end of the reports before she realized there was something wrong. Flipping through the stack again, it appeared over and over again, Team Five. But there had only been four teams.

The rest of the reports she had shredded shed the light. They were being lied to from the start. The number of soldiers at this facility that Cowboy had given them when they arrived had been grossly exaggerated. The number of researchers appeared to have been underrated. But it hadn't been Cowboy's fault that the figures he'd provided were wrong, that was the "official" number given to everyone. As for Brigadier General Timmons, he was only a figure head, someone to make the military presence sound more official. The researchers were actually calling the shots around here, the inmates running the asylum, she couldn't help but think.

The more she read, the more she felt like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. It all fit though, right down to the truth about the mysterious Team Five, it wasn't an individual search and rescue team, they were moles, all assigned to the real teams. One name caught her attention, "Sonuvabitch."

She glanced at her watch, it was still several hours before the scheduled meeting with Briggs and the others. But if what she had just read about the moles was true, she wasn't sure if they could afford to have that meeting. Making a decision she stood up, intending to seek out one of the others. She was almost to the door when the same Lieutenant from before appeared, this time carrying a box of files by himself.

"Going somewhere Specialist?"

"Yes sir, the bathroom sir," she quickly said, before remembered to salute him. "Then I thought I'd grab another cup of coffee from the chow hall, sir."

He nodded, "I've got some more communications that need to be destroyed."

"Yes sir, if you'd like to leave them on my desk, I'll take care of them when I get back. If that's okay sir." Damn, playing the obedient soldier was starting to get old real fast she thought.

"Very well. Use the head, but I want this taken care of before you take any coffee breaks. Understood?

"Affirmative...sir."

What about the rest of it from earlier?"

"Already taken care of sir."

He just nodded and left. Taking a deep breath, Steele hurried into the hallway, still planning on seeking out one of the others. The Lieutenant was standing down the hall, only a few yards from the door. She quickly saluted him before turning the opposite direction and heading towards the nearest bathroom.

"Shit," she uttered as soon as the door safely closed behind her. After waiting a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to proceed, she left the bathroom. The lieutenant was no where to be seen. Deciding to play it safe, in case someone was watching, she returned to her desk and grabbed the files. Once again she began scanning through them before putting them into the shredder. This batch was as informative as the others had proved to be, now if only she could come up with a way of letting the others know about the mole before it was too late.


	13. Compromising Positions

While the others had slept, Michael and Ana sat together on a cot in the corner and read through the cryptic messages CJ had left in the crossword puzzle for them. Phrases like 'T and A may be lost,' 'Researchers dangerous,' 'Group trying to help,' 'Will keep informed,' 'Watch for the cameras,' and 'Red lights will show you,' were scattered throughout the squares. When they had finished reading the messages, they turned and looked each other in the eyes, both wishing there was a way for them to talk about what it all meant. 

Michael smiled slowly, removing the puzzle book from Ana's hand, he put his arms around her and kissed her, working his way along her cheek until it appeared as though he was nibbling on her earlobe. He whispered, "Play along Ana, this may be our only shot at talking here."

She pulled back suddenly, looking him in the eyes. Then, easing her arms up around his neck, she returned his smile before angling her head and nipping his earlobe with her teeth then whispering back, "Very clever. So what do you think?"

Continuing to look like a couple of teenagers snogging and groping, he replied, "I think his friend the sergeant is on to something, and that if we don't act soon we might not make it out of here at all."

"Why the camera's?" she asked, then moaned softly when Michael kissed her neck, just below her ear. It made her think of Louis suddenly, but for the first time she didn't feel guilty about how Michael made her feel.

Michael, breathing a little unsteadily now, said, "To make sure we don't escape probably. And to trap us a little more easily if we do."

"What..What about Tucker...and Andy?" she asked, starting to have a difficult time concentrating.

"I don't think they're still alive," he began, before Steve's voice interrupted.

"Well would you look at this. Too bad I forgot to bring the camcorder from the mall, we could have filmed this for posterity" he leered, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the room.

"Steve, you're being an asshole again," Monica mumbled, laying back down, trying to make the cot seem more comfortable. It was times like these that she couldn't remember why she'd let him fuck her. Glancing towards Ana and Michael she just said, "It's about time you two did something interesting."

Nicole was also looking at the two on the cot, visibly surprised. It wasn't so much that they were snogging that shocked her, as it was that they were doing it so openly. As Monica had suggested, they'd all seen the attraction between the two almost as soon as they had arrived at the mall together, but to their knowledge the pair had never acted on those feelings, until now.

Ana's face turned a bright shade of red with embarrassment. Without the luxury of being able to speak openly, there would be no easy way to explain why they'd been carrying on the way they had.

Instead of trying to come up with an explanation, Michael grabbed the crossword puzzle book and tossed it in the direction of where Peter, Roger and Fran sat, grateful for their silence. "Why don't you guys try some crosswords to take your mind off of things." He looked at the clock on the wall, it was only 9 in the morning. "I think I'm going to see about using the showers," he said, rising from the cot, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

"I'll come with you," Terry called, also rising from his cot. Nicole automatically got up to follow him.

"I guess I'll go too, seeing as how breakfast seems to be late this morning," Ana said quietly, still red-faced over being caught with Michael like that.

"Well if you guys are going to be making all this noise," Monica complained, "I guess I'll come along too." She wasn't very happy about having to deal with Nicole, who'd probably insist on bringing the dog along, but she couldn't resist the opportunity to give Ana a little bit of a hard time about Michael. In a way she was jealous of the two of them,  
if they made it out of this alive she thought they could actually have something together. Not like herself and Steve, once the sex got boring they were finished.

"Come on Chips!" Nicole called to the dog who'd been sleeping beneath her cot. He trotted over to follow them out the door. Marshall was there to accompany them to the gym, where the showers were located. Walker remained at the door to guard


	14. The Invitation

1330 Hours 

"Sergeant First Class Briggs isn't it?"

Briggs turned at the sound of a deep bass voice loudly calling her name. A much older,  
stocky, balding man wearing a lab coat stood expectantly behind her.

"Dr. Steiner I presume," she said, her voice nearly dripping with sarcasm. She reached over to turn off the blaring radio beside her.

"You know who I am," he replied, his over-abundant ego apparently reason enough to ignore her sarcasm.

"I make it a point of knowing who all the players on the board are," was her response. "Now, was there something you wanted? Or do you just seek out all the non-coms around this joint?"

"What makes you assume I would want something, sergeant?"

"Let's just say you don't look like a man who spends a lot of time in the gym."

"Yes, quite right. You're very blunt sergeant."

She just stared at him, waiting. He said nothing, so, after a moment, she reached over to turn the radio back on.

"Must you listen to that noise? I would like to have a word with you."

She paused, and instead of turning on the radio she reached for the chin-up bar, doing a rapid series of pull-ups before responding, "I'm listening."

"You don't seem to have much respect for me. Don't you realize what I'm trying to accomplish? I hold your life, the lives of everyone here really, in the palm of my hand."

Sighing Briggs dropped away from the bar. "Are you going somewhere with this Doc? Or do you just get off on trying to show everyone what a 'big important man' you are?"

Choosing to ignore her comments he told her, "I've been reading your file Sergeant, I could use a person like yourself, with your abilities that is, on my team."

She laughed bitterly. "Some interesting reading probably, but I highly doubt you have any special need for my, 'abilities' in a lab. Unless you have computers that need hacked,  
surveillance jammed, or someone killed."

He sat down on a weight bench in front her. "You don't give yourself enough credit. According to your files you have a well above average IQ. You graduated high school two years early, as valedictorian even, then you started college immediately, pre-med wasn't it? But you dropped out after two years, enlisted in the Army, got into Military Intelligence."

"An oxymoron I assure you doctor," Briggs interrupted. "Are you going anywhere with this, I'd kinda like to hit the showers."

"Please, indulge me for a moment, Sergeant. You continued studying medicine while in the Army, but you never advanced on to med school. You could have gone ROTC, finished your education, been an officer and a doctor, but you didn't. Why? After showing all that potential you just appear to have thrown it all away."

"Lost interest. Found out I was better at killing than saving."

"But you did some in depth studying of biochemistry, anatomy. I really could use you on my team. My researchers, they seem to be getting a little stale. They're not able to look outside the box any longer, see the greater opportunities we have here. I think some fresh insight would be quite the thing to get them back on track, afterall, there are so many things we can learn from those creatures."

"I don't think so Doc. I've got civilians to baby-sit, squads to run, no time to play doctor myself."

"Why don't you at least come down to our labs, see what it is we're trying to accomplish. It may inspire you to join us afterall. Who knows, you could be instrumental to my work..." he trailed off.

She looked at him for a moment before turning towards the showers. "I'll think about it Doc," she called over her shoulder. He smiled as he stood and began making his way out of the gym, looking confidant that she would accept his offer. "Oh and Doc, one more thing," she called. He turned back looking at her expectantly. "You wondered about college, I quit because I got caught cheating on a final, after that I figured I'd learned all I needed to learn there."

"I don't understand Sergeant."

"I learned how not to get caught."

"But what about all the college courses you took while you've been in the army? I believe you took the combat lifesaver course as well?" he asked, genuine curiosity tingeing his voice this time.

"I had this overwhelming urge to kill I guess you could say. How else to learn the best ways to do that, then to learn the weakest areas of the human body. Makes you much more efficient at it." She started to turn and walk away again, calling cryptically over her shoulder, "Oh and Doc, one more thing. If you read my file, then you know what I've been doing for the past seven years. I've stayed alive this long for a reason." With that she disappeared into the women's shower area where she was met by Specialist Steele.

"The game's not until 1700 hours you're taking a big risk being here now," Briggs said.

"We've got serious trouble. The kind that you need to know about before we go into the poker game."

Sighing, Briggs signaled for the younger woman to continue, silently asking herself what more could be sprung on her out of the blue.

"We've got a traitor in our group. Command placed two moles on all the search and rescue teams, people who would slide under the radar unless the rest of the team decided to deviate from orders. Then they would make their move."

"Who was on our team."

"Carson for one," Steele hesitated, prompting Briggs to speak.

"He didn't make it out of Pastor, who else?"

"Davis," she almost said in a whisper.

"You couldn't tell the man you've been fucking is a goddamn traitor?" Briggs asked,  
incredulous.

"Thanks, you're a real pal to point that out."

"Yes, I know, I'm a bitch." Sighing she scrubbed a hand wearily across her face. "Don't mind me Bec, he had us all fooled. And I just had a run in with Dr. Frankenstein, invited me to join his merry band of miscreants, so I'm not exactly thinking clearly myself."

"What!"

"He's been reading my file, apparently he liked what he saw. Between that and Davis we need to move and move fast, it's only a matter of time before someone comes up with the misguided idea that they can stop us."

"I have more, news about survivors, bases..."

Briggs cut her off. "Later. We need to contact the others, try to move poker night up some, how's your quarters look?."

"I made a sweep of them this morning and everything was clean, but I've been out of there all day. They've had all kinds of time to change that."

"Fuck. That's why I offered up mine, I knew I was off duty today and had all kinds of time to spend there to keep them from trying to plant something. But we also got something else to think about too."

"What's that?"

"Even if the room isn't bugged, Davis could be wired."

"So what now Briggs?"

"We make contact with the others, tell them to meet at 1600 hours, still my quarters. It's gonna be tight with the duty roster, but we might be able to pull it off."

"1600 hours, affirmative." Steele turned to go, Briggs grabbed her arm.

"Make sure everyone knows, under no circumstances is Davis to know about the change. We'll wait for him to show up, and we'll give him a little show, maybe we can use this to our advantage. We also need to think about adding some more players to the board." With that, both women went their separate ways.


	15. Setting the Stage

1700 hours 

Davis arrived at the door to Briggs' quarters. He raised his hand to knock, but froze with it in mid-air as the raucous laughter from the other side gave him pause. It certainly didn't sound like a band of traitors was meeting to exchange their mutinous ideas. Swiftly he grasped the doorknob and stepped inside, hoping to catch them off-guard.

"Hey Davis," Masters called out around the cigar stub that hung from his mouth. The rest of the group was scattered around the floor actually playing poker, it seemed.

Masters continued, "Shut the door man, we wouldn't want to get busted for gambling." His comment was met with a chorus of laughter from the others assembled.

This was definitely not what Davis had expected to see. "Shouldn't we get down to business?" he asked.

Henry replied, "We are brother. 'Cause Steele, I see your five, and I'll raise you another." This time it was a chorus of groans that filled the room.

"Damn, that leaves me out," grumbled Cowboy.

"Me too," quipped Marshall.

"I see you, and I'll raise you ten," Briggs replied. Despite the gloom of being in an underground facility, she sat in a corner near her bed with a pair of silver Oakley sunglasses hiding her eyes.

"Shit! That's too rich for me, I'm just a lowly specialist," moaned Steele. Masters also declared he was out, leaving the game solidly between Henry and Briggs. Henry finally called, revealing a full house with kings high.

Briggs smiled a big Cheshire cat grin, laying her cards down with a flourish she said simply, "Straight flush."

The room exploded with trash talk. Davis still stood by the door, staring at everyone as though they had lost their minds. "Um, people, am I the only one here who remembers what we agreed to get together for?" he tried.

Briggs smiled again, "Well, if you're like the rest of these clowns you're here to lose your shirt tonight."

"I thought we were here to go over our intel. Make our plans. Get out of the fucking rat trap. You're the one who gave the code this morning Briggs!" He was no longer able to keep the frustration from his voice.

"Things change Davis."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean Henry?" Davis demanded.

"It means Dr. Steiner has asked me to join his team," Briggs replied.

"And it means we've had time to rethink about our reasons for wanting to leave," Cowboy added.

"We're safe here," Steele began, "and as long as the researchers keep working, maybe they'll find a cure and this nightmare will be over."

Davis scoffed, "A cure for being dead Steele? Get real."

"I meant a vaccine or something to protect us survivors if we get bit," she was quick to defend. "Do you know that Ft. Pastor, all the hospitals, none of them would have been overrun if we could have given people a vaccine to prevent them from turning into one of those things up there. This whole fucking mess might have been avoided!"

"I really don't believe what I'm hearing here," Davis scoffed.

"Believe it Davis," Cowboy finished.

"But Henry, your brother is one of the survivors here! The ones that the researchers are experimenting on," Davis tried a different tactic to reason with him.

"After we blew outta Ft. Pastor without seeing him ever be brought in I'd already accepted his death," Henry replied coolly.

"But he's not dead! And they could use him like a lab rat," Davis tried again.

Unknowingly echoing his own brother's words, Henry replied, "Better him than me."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing here." Davis nearly yelled as he reached for the door knob. "And I'm not going to sit here and be a part of this...this...this murder," he stammered. With that, he stormed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

"That was pleasant," Masters pronounced.

"Shut the fuck up Zack, we need to get back to business," Briggs commanded, finally pulling the sunglasses from her face. "Steele, Cowboy, we need to know absolutely everything going on with command, if someone takes a shit, I want to know about it. Masters, Henry, we need three birds completely readied for us. Go down the escape tunnels to the alternate helipad, leave the birds we brought in outside, I've got plans for them. I want the new birds fully armed, geared up, fueled, the works."

"What about the rest of the birds down there?" Masters asked.

"I want them ready to make a big bang when we exit, they should have what you need in the arms room,'' she told him. "Marshall, you're our liaison with our little group of survivors. I want to know of their comings and goings, I want to know everyone who enters and leaves that room. If I need to make contact with one, you're going to play message boy."

"What about you Briggs?" Henry asked.

"I'm going to take up Frankenstein on his offer to visit the labs, see what kind of information I can get out of the researchers."

"Could be risky," commented Henry.

"Everything we're doing here involves a certain degree of risk.We should also consider feeling out Walker, Evans and Randall, see if we can bring them on board with us, we might need the extra man-power."

"Anything else?" Cowboy drawled.

"Yea, Marshall,you've got the baby-sitting detail tonight, I need you to set up a meeting with CJ for me. Everyone else, you have your orders. I want to be ready to move in two days, it's not much time, but I don't think we're going to be able to make it out of here if we stay any longer than that."


	16. Late Nights

0100 Hours 

CJ was sleeping soundly when the hand suddenly coming down across his mouth woke him. His first instinct was to come up swinging, but then he opened his eyes and saw Monica standing over him. Shaking her hand loose he demanded, "What the hell do you want?"

"I couldn't sleep, I needed to talk to someone."

Gesturing around them he angrily whispered, "There's a whole goddamn room of people here why in hell did you have to wake me up?"

She leaned closer to him, her head nearly resting on his shoulder, in much the same fashion as Michael and Ana had the previous morning. "I thought maybe you of all people could tell me something that would make me feel better."

"Do I look like a fucking doctor? Some kind of shrink?" he fumed, still groggy and half asleep.

"No, I didn't mean it that way. I thought maybe you'd talked to your girlfriend, you know." The defensive whisper was so uncharacteristic of Monica that CJ could only look at her for a moment before responding.

"I've been here ever since I got back from the gym this morning, how the hell could I have talked to her?" CJ asked. A quick look of shock came over his face and disappeared almost instantly before he defensively blurted, "And she's not my girlfriend!"

Monica just looked at him, eyebrow raised as if to say, 'yea right.'

"Come on, let's go to the gym, we'll see if she's there, but I doubt it," CJ said, ignoring the look Monica had given. Reaching down beside the cot, he grabbed his shoes,  
hurriedly lacing them up. "You coming," he asked as he grabbed his shirt from off the end of his cot and began walking towards the door, pulling it on as he went.

Monica scurried to grab her own shoes from the side of her cot. He was waiting at the door for her, and as she got close, quietly started to open it. Evans and Marshall stood watch outside, the former grabbing for his weapon as the door opened behind him.

"We want to go the gym," CJ said.

"Yea, I heard there was a swimming pool down there somewhere," Monica added,  
walking out the door to stand beside him. Marshall quickly responded.

"Sure, I'll walk you down there, Evans, radio Briggs if you need any help before I get back." The other man merely yawned and waved them away in response.

They walked in silence down the hallway, Marshall relieved that CJ had made an appearance at last. He hadn't wanted to make up an excuse to enter the cafeteria to seek him out, but Briggs had been adamant that she speak with him tonight. They were almost to the door to her quarters before he called out to them to halt. Monica turned with a worried expression on her face, wondering if it had been a big mistake leaving the cafeteria. CJ, recognizing the door from the previous night just waited as Marshall knocked softly on the door. It swung open almost immediately. Briggs waved them into the room.

"It's about fucking time Marshall."

"Sorry, I didn't want to alert anyone by going in the cafeteria and hauling him out," he explained.

"Good thinking," she conceded, "Now take miss teenage fan club here to the gym, I'll bring CJ down when I make my rounds."

Monica spoke up at that. "I'm no fucking teenager, and I want to know what's going on." She fairly shook with her anger over being excluded.

Briggs looked at her, "And you will know when CJ fills you in, but right now I need to have Marshall waiting outside that gym like a good little soldier so nobody suspects that there's something going on, and that means I need you to show up on camera inside the gym somewhere. If you enter through the locker rooms, there's no cameras so they can't see if you and CJ get there together,the cameras in the hallway have been more or less disabled. If they see you going about your business, CJ coming in from the locker rooms later, and Marshall is outside the doors the whole time, then there is no reason for anybody to suspect anything. Understand?"

Monica wished she could come up with a good argument, but Briggs made avalid point,  
if they were indeed being watched, they needed to make sure nothing looked out of the ordinary. "Okay, but I want to know everything," she said before turning to leave with Marshall.

As the door closed behind them, CJ turned to face Briggs. For a few fleeting seconds Monica's voice calling Briggs his girlfriend flashed through his mind.

"Have a seat," she sighed, flopping down to sit on the bed herself. Seeing nowhere else to sit but the floor, he joined her there.

"We're going to be making our run in two days," she began, "Well, the day after tomorrow anyway. We got word today that one of my team members is a plant, sent in to spy on us, so it's too dangerous for us to stay any longer. I've got two of my men monitoring command, two more prepping the helicopters, Marshall is going to try to watch out for you guys as best he can, he's going toapproachWalker, Evans and Randallabout gettingon board with us. Ramirez seems to have disappeared, I don't know if he got assigned somewhere else or if Frankenstein got his hands on him." She paused, and CJ took it as an opportunity to ask some questions of his own.

"Why would they put a plant on a search and rescue team?"

"They've been lying to us all from the start. Frankenstein and his minions are running the show."

"KN, you've already told me that," he interrupted.

"Yea, I know, just recapping it I guess." She yawned wearily, remembering everything Steele had told them, before continuing, "The spill was slightly more than we were originally lead to believe. The wind spreada supposedly non-airborne virus further than they could have imagined. But that's only what affected the New England area. Frankenstein's people were already at work trying to find an antivirus for those infected who hadn't died yet. That's where the so-called mutation came from, the one that makes those things seem like they should be signed up for the Olympic games. They started experimenting on live humans, and they got loose. This plague spreads like wildfire, one bite, one scratch from an infected is a death sentence, you become one of them."

"That doesn't explain why they would put a mole on a search and rescue team," he pushed.

"Frankenstein wanted to insure that he'd have a supply of non-contaminated people to continue his research for the supposed antivirus. There's no way the government would condone his use of soldiers, soldiers that would be needed to try to take back our country mind you, as guinea pigs. So he devised his plan of bringing back survivors, supposedly to a safe haven. But really, it's a house of horrors here. Tmmons agreed to overlook everything as long as Frankenstein left his soldiers alone. There were two moles placed on each team, if a team decided to bug out, they were to take control using extreme force if necessary."

"Extreme force?"

"Terminate them. It's an old strategy, terminate the leadership and the rest should crumble to pieces."

He was silent for a moment before asking, "So what's the plan then?"

"We get out of here. There are some safe spots scattered throughout the country yet, plus our naval ships at sea have been unaffected, no reports of the virus on board. Australia is clean, as soon as they got wind of the plague spreading they quarantined themselves from the outside world, planes, ships you name it, they refused them entry. New Zealand followed their lead, not quickly enough to keep the plague out entirely, but they've neutralized all threat of it there now. Hawaii has been able to keep themselves plague free too...there's more, but I won't waste time going into detail right now."

"How are we supposed to get out?"

"I told you, I've got some of my guys getting the helos prepped. Just make sure the others know that they need to be ready to go on a moments notice. We should really get going now, I have to make my rounds, make it look like I'm keeping with the program around here."

CJ nodded, still trying to assimilate all the information that she'd given him, while simultaneously asking himself what she was holding back. The two of them stood and headed towards the door, as he reached forward to open it Briggs laid a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her questioningly.

"Just one more thing before we go, make sure your people know to keep their distance from Davis, don't go anywhere with him unless one of my team members are with you," she said before releasing his arm.

He opened the door and together they made their way towards the gym, each lost in their own thoughts. She left him without a word at the door to the locker room, continuing on her way into the gym to supposedly check on Marshall. He watched her retreating back for a few seconds, silently berating himself for his own thoughts. Walking inside the room he went in search of Monica and the swimming pool.


	17. The Long Walk

0140 Hours 

After taking the time to wet his hair down so it would look like he had been in the shower, CJ entered the pool room and found Monica swimming laps. As soon as she realized he was there, she nearly shot out of the pool. "You about ready to head back?" he asked, trying hard not to look at the camera mounted in the corner.

"Hell yes, I was really getting creeped out down here alone," she answered as she started toweling herself dry. Together they began walking towards the direction of the locker room doors. "Where are you going?" she asked when she saw CJ heading towards the door to the men's side.

"To the locker room, I'll wait for you out front with Marshall."

"No way, you can come with me and wait. I was serious when I said this place was totally creeping me out," she replied, getting a stubborn look on her face.

"But that's the women's locker room," he weakly protested.

"Like you've never seen a naked woman before CJ. Or haven't you and that's the problem?" she goaded.

"Monica, cut the bullshit. If you're too scared to go in the locker room alone just say so."

"I thought I already did that," she said softly.

Rolling his eyes, CJ shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, "Fucking nursery school." He turned to follow her into the locker room, waiting while she showered and got dressed.

"So what did your girlfriend have to say?" she asked him as soon as she came out of the showers.

"She's not my girlfriend. And the plan is to get out of here the day after tomorrow."

"She's probably the closest you've had to a girlfriend in ages, and where are we going?" Monica asked without pause.

"What the fuck is it with you and my social life? I don't know for certain where we're going, she told me there were some safe zones out there still, areas where the dead haven't taken over."

"You don't have a social life CJ, that's why I have to invent one for you. Where are these safe zones?

"My social life was just fine before everyone I knew died then started walking around trying to eat other people. She didn't get the chance to go into detail about where all the safe zones are, just that Hawaii was clear, Australia, New Zealand, and any of our Navy ships that were out on sea when this virus thing hit. She did say there was more though."

"There better be, I'm no rocket scientist, but I don't think those helicopters can fly far enough to reach any of those places," Monica said, looking thoughtful. "And unless your social life involved something besides playing security guard at the mall with Terry and that Bart guy, and sitting around watching sports on TV while guzzling beer, it's definitely in need of some serious help."

CJ couldn't believe the twists and turns his life had taken in the last month. Here it was almost two in the morning and he was having a conversation about his social life and escaping a bunch of crazy mad scientists by flying out into a world infested with zombies with a woman like Monica. Before the end of the world started a women like her wouldn't give him the time of day unless they were out to amuse themselves or get back at their boyfriends. Now here it was, the end of the world, and she was still fucking with his head. Suddenly Monica's voice broke through his train of thought.

"CJ are you listening to me? Did you hear a word I just said?" she was asking, sounding amused.

"I'm trying to pretend I haven't even been having this conversation," he said, frustrated. "Now are you ready yet? 'Cause I'm heading outside to wait with Marshall."

"I'm ready, I'm ready," she said, hurrying to follow him.

CJ was nearly to the door when he stopped suddenly, causing Monica to crash into his back. "There is one more thing," he said. "KN said we should stay away from that Davis guy at all costs. If we do have to go somewhere with him, we should make sure we have one of her guys with us, or else we could end up like Tucker or Andy." With that he walked out the door, hoping to avoid any more questions from her.

Stepping outside the door together, they found Marshall waiting for them. "That was fast," he said, glancing at his watch as another soldier approached in the distance.

"Too many late nights are catching up with us," CJ said, "this is just what we use as a cure for insomnia." He finished just as the other soldier came abreast of them. It was Randall.

"Where in the hell is Briggs, Marshall?" she demanded. "She's supposed to be on duty but I can't find her anywhere!"

"She was just leaving her room to make the rounds when I brought these two down here,  
did you try down by the Cafeteria? She could be with Evans right now," he told her,  
trying to disguise his surprise that the woman would actually be seeking Briggs out.

"She left word that she wanted to speak with me, then she pulls this shit not telling me where to find her," griped Randall.

"Well, she's on duty, that means she's making her rounds of the CQ desks," Marshall reasoned. Randall only shook her head.

"I'm just getting off of a twelve hour shift in the arms room and now I'm supposed to search all night for her? That's bullshit!" she declared, turning to stomp off in the direction of Cafeteria A.

Marshall smiled. "Nothing like happy co-workers to make your day pleasant," he quipped. "You two ready to go now? I don't think I want to miss it if Randall catches up with Briggs, it should be the most entertainment I've had in a long time."

CJ actually laughed, and Monica was amazed at the way the two men seemed to completely forget all about the secret meeting they'd had that night. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Monica couldn't take it any longer. For lack of anything real to say she asked to no one in particular, "So what does KN stand for anyway?"

"Huh?" CJ grunted, having been lost in his own thoughts.

"KN, you slip up a lot and refer to Briggs as KN, I just wondered what it stood for," she explained.

Marshall smiled, "Damn, that was quick. I've know her for almost three years, and it took me a good year and a half to get that information out of her. Almost thought I'd have to find out from her ex-husband."

Monica almost completely forgot about the initials when she heard that information. "Married? That man-eating bitch was married," she said hoping to goad CJ a little. "Maybe there is hope for me afterall. So who was she married to?"

Marshall looked chagrined over having opened up this whole can of worms. "Well, it's someone you all have met actually."

That statement caught CJ's attention, but he remained silent. Monica didn't have any problems digging for more information. "Who is it?" she fairly shrieked with excitement. Gossip had always been one of her favorite pastimes.

"Cowboy. They were married a long time ago, not too long out of AIT I guess. They both were assigned on the same post, different companies and it just happened. Didn't last real long though, but obviously there were no hard feelings. Briggs was even his best man when he got remarried a few years back." Marshall got real quiet then, thinking for the first time about the fate of Cowboy's wife, which lead him to think about his own family and friends, something that he worked hard at trying to forget.

Sensing the change in his mood, Monica asked, "What's AIT?"

"Advanced Individual Training, it's the next level of training following basic," Marshall responded.

Nodding, Monica asked again, "So what does the KN mean?" Only this time it was CJ who replied.

"Her folks were both big on politics, they named her after her their two favorite presidents."

Monica laughed, "You're kidding right? Which two presidents?"

CJ glanced at her before responding, "Kennedy and Nixon." Which caused another burst of laughter from her.

"Tell me your not serious," she laughed, "I mean, did they hate her or something?" Which prompted Marshall to speak again.

"Not at all. They wanted to give her a strong name that held significant meaning to them,  
or at least that's how Briggs likes to tell it. Her mother always loved Kennedy, the fact that he was a war hero and she always liked to quote his, 'torch has been passed to a new generation' speech. Her father now, he thought Nixon was the shit. He still couldn't believe that he lost the election against Kennedy, thought that the televised debate between them was rigged in Kennedy's favor. Anyways, right up until the day he died, he always defended Nixon and Watergate, the secret recordings, everything. Couldn't understand how the man who was responsible for finally getting us out of Vietnam could possibly be impeached. But that's the story."

The entry to the cafeteria came into view as he was finishing up the story. Briggs and Randall were indeed there, the younger woman gesturing wildly with her hands as they spoke. Evans just sat in one of the chairs in front of the doors looking amazed. Finally,Briggs said something quietly which shut Randall up, and the two women began heading in the direction of CJ and the others, walking by them with barely a nod to acknowledge them at all.

"So what was all that about?" Marshall called out to Evans.

"I don't know man, but Randall sounded like she had a whole hornet's nest up her ass," the other soldier replied.

The four of them laughed before CJ and Monica made their way back inside the cafeteria. The last thing CJ heard before the door shut was Marshall telling Evans that he had something important he needed to talk to him about.

Inside the cafeteria, Monica headed directly towards her cot, settling in for what remained of the night. CJ, despite his exhaustion earlier, found he couldn't sleep quite yet. Instead he made his way over to the far corner of the cafeteria where a small light sat on a table with some old magazines and the crossword puzzle book. Next to the table were a pair of beat up chairs. Picking up the crossword puzzle book and removing the pen from inside,he settled himself into one of the chairs and began to write. It was almost a half hour later before he was finished. Carefully he clipped the pen to the front cover of the book, the agreed upon signal that something new had been added. He rose to his feet and stretched, letting out a yawn, then headed over to his cot where he once again tried to get to sleep.


	18. Countdown Begins

0700 Hours 

Fran thought she was the first in the cafeteria to awaken, not realizing that CJ had finally given up on his abortive attempts at sleep hours ago and lay quietly on his cot with his eyes closed. He appeared to be sound asleep, but in reality he was trying to work out in his mind what exactly his strange relationship with Briggs really was. The sound of Fran's movements caused him to open his eyes a fraction, just long enough to see her making her way towards the reading corner and the crossword puzzle book.

As Fran neared the reading corner she had every intention of sitting down with the same magazines she'd been reading for the past week, probably at least a dozen times over already, when she caught sight of the pen on the outside of the crossword puzzle book. Ever since CJ had started using it as a means to communicate without alerting those watching them over the surveillance cameras they had come to the agreement that the pen being clipped to the outer cover would signal new information had been added. Keeping her knowledge of the camera's in the back of her mind, she tried to cover her eagerness to read the newest message by forcing herself to flip through the magazines before finally settling back in a chair with the crossword book in hand. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she failed to hear Peter's approach until he spoke.

"You okay Fran?" he asked, causing her to jump a little.

"Oh, Peter, I didn't hear you," she smiled warmly at him then. "I guess I was a little lost in thought here, trying to figure out these clues," she gestured towards the puzzle book. Peter nodded, silently acknowledging his understanding.

"Maybe I can help you out then," he said, pulling the other chair closer to hers before sitting down in it. Fran eagerly held the book open so that they could both see the latest entry, written in CJ's now recognizable handwriting. The first one nearly caused her heart to skip a beat, 'Leaving soon, be ready.' Fran closed her eyes for a second, breathing a sigh of relief, causing Peter to glance her way again. She opened her eyes and focused on the page once more, continuing to read. 'Beware Davis, not what he seems,' and 'Stay together, safer," finished out the short entries. It wasn't much to go on, and both wished that they could speak freely, none of them was really cut out for the cloak and dagger routine afterall.

While the two continued to sit and write their own messages in the book the rest of the group showed signs of waking up. Steve sat up, yawning loudly and stretching, not really caring if he woke anyone. "Someone really needs to complain to the concierge about the crap ass accommodations around here," he complained.

Monica looked blearily in his direction, unused to the late night exercise she'd gotten in the wee hours of the morning. "Shut up Steve,"

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the cot today," he said, sounding much more cheerful now that he knew someone else was awake.

Choosing to ignore him, she instead rolled over and found Glen watching them. Wanting to take her anger at Steve out on someone she said, "Something on your mind Glen?" Then, narrowing her eyes at him, she purred, "Or were you hoping you might get some kind of show this morning? Maybe it would be enough to help you join Steve's team and leave mine alone."

Glen hastily retreated to the far side of the room, where Fran and Peter sat, without saying a word. Monica watched his retreat, trying her best to shrug off the twinge of guilt she felt for speaking to him that way. He'd been nothing but nice to her, and truth be told he gave them all probably the least amount of trouble of anyone in their group.

Yawning, she sat up and glanced around the room, noticing how everyone seemed destined to pair up in some way. There was Terry and Nicole sitting on his cot playing with that dumb dog Nicole had insisted on keeping. Ana and Michael sat on her cot. He was gently massaging her shoulders, the contact between them having become more pronounced since getting caught together the previous morning. Ana had explained to Monica and Nicole why it had appeared that she and Michael had been making out like a couple of teenagers when they had all made the trip to the showers together. But she hadn't even tried to deny anything when Monica pointed out how much they both had seemed to be enjoying it at the time.

Glancing towards the card table, she watched Kenneth and Roger sit down to play a game of gin together. They did that a lot lately, play cards and talk about the good old days in the military, why they'd decided to become cops, stuff like that. Despite how different they were in appearance, the tall, muscular black man with his shaved head and tattoos, and the short, wiry blonde man with a receding hairline, the two seemed to have really bonded. Peter and Fran seemed to be a pair now too, Monica mused. She supposed it was a good thing for Fran, what with being knocked up and her boyfriend having been eaten and all. But it worked out for Peter too, he seemed to thrive on the fact that she needed and depended on him. He was definitely a caretaker type personality.

Steve was a different matter entirely. Oh, she was still fucking him whenever they could get the chance to sneak out of the sight of the others, but that was really all there was to it. He had his moments where he could be charming, but she was the only person who ever saw that, the rest of them would probably feed him to one of those walking corpses in a second if they had the chance to. Lately he'd been getting on her nerves and she'd been feeling some serious attraction to CJ. If only he wasn't so blue collar, that was his only major draw back as far as she was concerned. Well, that and he really did seem to have something going on with that Briggs chick, which actually made her kind of jealous in a way. Men always wanted her, the idea that there was one out there that didn't, who wasn't gay to boot, just didn't sit right. She shrugged it off though, letting out a yawn, she lay back down, deciding that it was just the sleep deprivation getting to her. Everything would be fine if she got a little more sleep.

0900 Hours

Henry and Masters worked their way down the escape tunnel leading to the secondary helipads. They carried a duffels loaded with supplies, intending to stow them with the other gear they had managed to bring down so far.

"It's kind of funny that they aren't monitoring these tunnels," Masters said suddenly.

"Not really," Henry replied, "Because they do have surveillance camera's here." He pointed to the faint red glow of light from one of the cameras. "Cowboy and Briggs made sure they were sort of disabled right after we got here. All the main hallways, this tunnel, the camera's are up and running, they're just on a loop. Apparently no one's watching them close enough to notice so far that the halls are always clear."

"So they've had this all planned out almost from the start then," commented Masters.

"More like a work in progress I'd say. Cowboy had his suspicions from the beginning, He was on the first team in here. But, he couldn't communicate anything to her without alerting others here that he was on to them. As soon as we arrived though and they got everything pieced together, those two started making some serious plans."

"So when are we going to start loading up the arms?" Masters asked.

"Briggs worked out a deal with Randall this morning, she's going to get us full access to the arms room when she gets back on duty this afternoon. We oughta be able to get the arms loaded and start setting the explosives."

"So until then?"

"We plan. She wants a remote detonation on the generators and the remaining helos on helipad two, that's gonna take some work," Henry said.

"Taking out the generators will cause the fences to lose power," Masters mused thoughtfully.

"Exactly. And I figure a good strafing run on the shatterproof glass should weaken it enough to let those zombies breakthrough, take care of whatever of those fuckers we don't." Henry almost smiled at the thought.

"But what about the helos we flew in on? There might be time for some of them to make it out of here on those," Masters pointed out. "And there's also the docks, they've got the harbor barricaded off too, they could get out on boats.

"Briggs wants this place completely sanitized when we fly out, so that's not even an option. She's got a plan for them both. And she's down in the labs right now trying to locate the weaknesses, bring that down first."

"How can she be so sure she'll make it back out of the lab?"

Henry paused, looking at Masters before answering, "Because they still suspect her, but they're not sure how many others she's recruited. Sure, they can kill her off, turn her into one of those things, but that just means someone else might step up to the plate. If they let her live, they can try to watch and see who the rest of us are. She treats this whole thing like a big chess board, or that game I used to play when I was a kid, Risk, I think it was called. Anyways, we're all a bunch of players in a game to her, we all have our positions on the board, but like poker, she'll never reveal her hand until someone calls."

"You make it sound like it's all just a big game to her, like she's actually enjoying this somehow."

"Maybe she is brother, maybe she is."


	19. Zero Hour Approaches

1330 Hours 

Briggs slowly worked her way down the hallway to the main lab area, carefully making note of the surveillance cameras mounted overhead. The cameras seemed to be the only security once you entered the hallway. There had been two scared looking soldiers guarding the entry point to the hall. They couldn't have been more than nineteen years old, probably fresh out of basic, judging from how clumsy they handled their weapons. She probably could have taken them both out with their own weapons, but a quick radio call to Dr. Frankenstein spared her the effort. Dr. Frankenstein it seemed was eager to see her again.

Midway down the hall she realized there was a blindspot where one camera's range ended,  
and the next began. It was just the sort of opening she'd been looking for. Smiling to herself, she checked down the hallway for signs of movement before pulling a small device from one of her uniform pockets and mounting it on the back of a camera. She did the same for the next dozen yards, not wanting to go any further for fear of pushing her luck one too many times. It was then that she would have sworn that the sound of the living dead snarling and moaning seemed to emanate from behind some of the doors she passed. Looking more closely at the door nearest to her she slid open a panel covering a viewing window. Peering inside she saw a sight that actually shocked her. In a barred cage at the back of the room stood one of those creatures. It appeared to be wearing one of the standard white lab coats favored by the researchers here, there even seemed to be a ID badge still hanging rather haphazardly from the lapel. Seeing her face through the window, the creature tried to lunge at her through the bars, an amazing feat considering the way it's abdominal cavity seemed to have been torn open, remnants of intestines and other organs spilling out still. A voice suddenly sounded from her right side.

"I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long Sergeant," Dr. Frankenstein said.

"Thought I'd take the opportunity to do some sight-seeing," she replied.

"Well, then, let me give you the full fifty cent tour." He smiled at her, then gestured at the door through which she had been looking. "That poor creature was one of our scientists. Took the misguided approach of testing his vaccine model on himself rather than another subject. After he was bit, we managed to bring him to this room before he expired and became re-animated."

"His stomach was tore out that bad but you still had time to move him?"

He cleared his throat noisily, obviously not expecting her to question what she'd been told. "Well, I suppose we should continue on to the main research area," he said, ignoring herquestion entirely.

They walked about another dozen yards, turning a corner before coming upon the main area. There were roughly a dozen researchers, dressed similarly to the corpse she'd just viewed, bent over microscopes and computers when they entered. None of them even glanced up when they arrived, either too engrossed in their work to notice, or else sensing a need to appear that way.

"My researchers are still working on a vaccine that could prevent people from succumbing to the infection spread by those creatures. We're trying various derivatives from the original compounds that caused the virus." He pointed towards a researcher who appeared to be working with what appeared to be human flesh of some sort. "Dr. Stevenson is using tissue samples from infected specimens to ascertain how the virus spreads and what chemically occurs to allow the bodies to be re-animated. We have samples from infected specimens before their normal life functions have terminated as well as after the re-animation has occurred."

Briggs looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "And how exactly have you been able to obtain these samples?"

"Quite simple really. I'm sure when you flew in you saw the creatures circling the barricades outside." He paused for a brief moment, so she nodded to encourage him to continue. "In the back our lab area here is a holding pen, it was originally used for the receiving of new research livestock. The chute leading to it from the dock area, while cut off from access to the docks, allows the creatures entrance to the paddock area. The paddock area is behind bars of course, the bars are behind safety glass. We bring in the specimens as we need them, the paddocks were designed to be able to separate out individual animals from a herd type environment. It's a somewhat complicated process to safely bring in a single creature and move them to an observation pen, so we've enlisted some of our military personnel to assist us with the collections."

"With all the research you've been performing have you even come close to some sort of vaccine? I mean, you should have access to the original chemical compound that caused this mess."

"You have to remember sergeant, it is a very time consuming process to develop something of this nature. There's a lot of trial and error involved."

"And how many people have you subjected to this virus?" she asked, not even trying to keep the derision from her voice.

He looked at her darkly, "We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good Sergeant, it would do you well to remember that."

Briggs remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. Finally she asked, "And what exactly is it that you think I can do?"

"I told you before, I think you could prove invaluable to helping my researchers look outside the box so to speak. They're so focused on certain aspects of the antivirus creation that I'm afraid they may be missing something."

"How about we finish this tour," she said, making a show of checking out the watch on her wrist. "I need to be back on duty in less than an hour."

"But I was to the understanding that you pulled the duty last night, 12 hours on, 12 hours off isn't that how you people run things?" he asked, soundly more than a little put out at the idea that she wasn't at his beck and call.

She favored him with a brittle smile that had caused more than one man to fear for his safety. "Yes, but that was before we started suffering from a mysterious shortage of manpower around here. But of course you wouldn't know anything about that now would you Doc?"

Ignoring her question Frankenstein gestured towards a set of doors on the far side of the lab area. "As you said, time is short so let us continue."

1500 Hours

"Have you managed to get the charges set?" Cowboy asked.

"Affirmative sir, last night on patrol. Squad power has been cut in half since we arrived so it was easy to slip out and take care of things undetected."

"When are you next scheduled for patrol?"

"Not until tomorrow night, 2300 hours."

"Good, Briggs wants us to be ready to cut and run tonight, 2000 hours, while it's still somewhat light, something she either heard or saw in the labs today convinced her to move out ahead of schedule. Be ready, full battle rattle, just like you're heading out on patrol. Spread the word to the others."

The soldier nodded. "What's the rally point?"

"Escape tunnel leading to the docks and the secondary helipad. Randall and Marshall are bringing the remaining civilians from the cafeteria. Masters, Henry and I are getting the helos prepped to dust off in a hurry."

"And the others?"

"Sanitizing the lab and setting the charges."

"What about the command center?"

"Already set to blow."


	20. Escape

2000 Hours, The Cafeteria 

The group in Cafeteria A were settling in for a typical night, playing poker, rereading old magazines, anything to keep their minds off of where they were. CJ was just beginning to contemplate yet another trip to the gym when the door burst open. Marshall and Randall appeared, clad in full battle dress.

"Come on people we gotta move and we gotta move now!" Marshall called out to them. It was the news they had been waiting to hear. In an instant everyone began scurrying, some putting shoes on, others just heading for the door.

"Where we going?" Kenneth demanded.

"Rally point is the escape tunnels, secondary helipad." Randall said from her position by the door.

"Where's Briggs and the others?" CJ asked as he joined Randall.

"Briggs is leading the sterilization of the lab and Command, Cowboy, Henry and Masters are prepping the helos," she answered.

Ana looked confused. "Wait, what do mean sterilization?"

"She means that they're going to ghost the researchers and soldiers, blow command and the lab, leave nothing behind," Marshall said. "Now if you don't want to be left behind as dinner for those zombies outside, I suggest we get a move on now." With that he walked out the door, the others quickly followed, Randall bringing up the rear.

2000 Hours, The Tunnels

"Who the fuck are they Cowboy?" Masters said.

"This is Jones, Cook and Sanchez, they're coming with us," he answered coolly,  
continuing to walk down the tunnel until Masters' hand on his arm stopped him.

"I didn't mean their names asshole, I meant who the fuck are they?" demanded Masters, a sharp tinge of anger evident in his voice.

Cowboy looked at him and asked, "Did you really think that Briggs and I have been able to pull all this off with just our group?" He was silent for a moment, letting the thought sink in before adding, " I know how you feel man, I really do, kinda felt the same way myself when she filled me in on them last night."

"That's no reason to keep it from us brother," Henry chided him.

"No it wasn't, and I told that to Briggs myself. She pointed out to me that if any of us got caught, it was in our best interest to have some kind of ace in the hole. In this case, three soldiers, familiar with the base, with seemingly no connection to us."

Henry narrowed his eyes at Cowboy, "You make it sound like we'd just cave in and tell them everything. Don't know about your training, but mine made sure I could survive an interrogation without endangering my mission."

"But it wasn't just us was it? There was the civilians to think about, who knew all about us, but not about them," he gestured towards the three newcomers. "Not even I know what all she's had them doing, and I don't care. Right now, all I know is that we can either stand here and keep fighting about this, or we can get some birds ready to fly. Your call."

"Let's just get out of here," grumbled Masters, beginning to move down the tunnel towards the helipads.

2000 Hours, The Lab

Briggs walked alone towards the hall to the labs, nearing the guards. They appeared to be the same two from earlier, something she had counted on. She was wearing a lab coat, similar to that worn by the other researchers, projecting the illusion that she was just another researcher on her way to work. In reality, the coat was simply a means to conceal the Heckler und Koch Model 23 pistol she carried tucked in her belt on her lower back. It was quite a hefty piece, completely decked out with a sound and flash suppresser as well as a LAM (laser-aiming module), but it was her weapon of choice for use in a close combat situation like this.

As she came upon the guards, she smiled disarmingly at them, "Dr. Steiner wanted me in the labs again."

"Of course Sergeant," one managed to stammer out while reaching for the radio, "I'll just have to verify it with the Doctor again."

"But of course," she answered, simultaneously pulling her weapon up and taking out the guards with two swift head shots. She started to step around the two corpses when a sound behind her had her whirling and dropping into a crouch in one single, swift move. She kept herself from squeezing off another round just in the nick of time. Walker stood before her, his young face looking ashen over how closely he'd come to death.

"Damn it Walker, I thought I told you to go with the others and bring down command." Briggs ground out as she stood and removed the constrictive lab jacket.

"Steele already had the comm center wired for detonation, that will give them the element of surprise. Command should be scrambling to figure out what's going happening, they'll be ducks in a barrel. One more gun, more or less, isn't going to make a damn bit of difference there and you know it. Maybe you are insane enough to try and take out the whole lab on your own, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna let you try."

"Well said Walker, misguided as fuck, but well said. Stay behind me and try not to get in my way, I'll do what I can to get you out alive. Now let's move."

They proceeded down the hall quickly, until they reached the last curve before the main lab area. Already planning on the sound of gunfire having alerted them, not to mention the surveillance cameras. She pulled out a flash-bang, removing the pin and hurling it around the bend. They heard the startled cries of the researchers as the flash-bang went off. "Move in now!" Briggs hollered to Walker. Staying behind her the two moved in firing as one. The first few researchers were easy kills, standing there trying to shake off the after effects of the flash-bangs, but once the gunfire began the others began ducking for cover behind their research stations. Three tried taking off down the corridor where Dr. Frankenstein's office was located, as well as the entryway to the receiving paddocks, Briggs quickly brought them down before ducking behind a workstation and popping a fresh clip into her weapon as Walker joined her.

"I want you to stay here and hold the door, don't let anyone get back out down the hall,  
I'm going after Steiner," she told him.

"But shouldn't.."

Briggs cut him off, "Just do what I say Junior and you may live through this." Suddenly the sound of an explosion echoed through the hall, the walls of the lab vibrating slightly.

"What the fuck was that?" Walker cried.

"Steele must have blown the comms, we need to move fast, get this done, and get out to the helos." With that she crept out from behind the work station seeking out the door to Steiners office. Midway there she came across a female researcher cowering in fear under a desk.

"Please, don't kill me!" the woman cried out.

"How many of your victims pleaded for their lives with you?" Briggs asked before aiming her weapon and firing, the bullet catching the researcher cleanly through her left eye. She continued on her way until she reached Steiner's office, pausing briefly, she stepped back and kicked the door open wide before leaping to the side, out of the range of anyone inside. Again crouching low she proceeded into the office and found it deserted. Stepping swiftly into the corridor, she proceeded to the door that lead to the paddocks Steiner had told her about, where they had been bringing the living dead into the facility.

Bursting through the door, Briggs found Steiner a control panel, raising the shatterproof barrier. Firing two quick bursts, she caught Steiner in the shoulder with the first, his upper arm with the second, still allowing him to hit the control that opened the paddock gate. The snarls of the living dead filled the room as a group of them rushed the bars separating the paddock area from the rest of the room. Briggs fired another round that caught Steiner full in the chest as he frantically grabbed for the control to the last barrier keeping the dead at by. He lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Gasping for breath he rasped out, "I knew you couldn't be trusted to understand what we were trying to accomplish here."

Briggs said nothing. Stepping forward she placed a booted foot squarely on the scientists chest and fired a single shot directly between his eyes. It was too easy for him, too quick. He'd deserved so much more for all the death and misery he'd wrought. Looking towards the creatures she was taken aback by the sight before her. The bars holding them were clearly not designed to withhold the punishment the thirty plus creatures were exerting on them. As she watched, more creatures began to appear from the tunnel, undoubtedly drawn from the frenzied moans, adding their weight against the bars which were definitely beginning to bow from the pressure. Without a second thought, Briggs hurried through the door, pausing just long enough to activate the security lock on the door. Then she took off at a dead run calling out to Walker. "We gotta move man, that door's not going to hold them for long!"

Together they raced down the hall, halfway through Briggs yanked a small device from her pocket and began pushing some buttons. The small charges she'd planted behind the camera's began blowing behind them, just as they heard the remaining researchers screaming in terror.

"What the hell is that?" Walker panted.

"Charges. I'm no engineer, but I think with the camera spacing and placement the blasts should be just enough to weaken the ceiling supports, bring this section down."

They continued to run, finally nearing the entrance to the main hall. The sound of running feet clearly emanating from the hall they had just exited. There was also a rumbling sound as the ceiling finally began to fall.

"I think it worked," Walker called, breathing laboriously now.

"Not fast enough, I think some of them made it through. Either that or it wasn't enough of a collapse to do more than slow them down a little. We need to move faster."

They neared the spot where the corridor to command branched off. Steele and the others were there. "We got company!" Walker yelled to them as he and Briggs continued on by. Immediately they started running after them. The group were almost to the escape tunnel when they came upon two of the patrol soldiers. Without pausing Briggs and Walker opened fire, taking them both down. Leaping over their bodies, they entered the escape tunnel, the sounds of footsteps and snarls seeming to be growing closer. They sprinted down the tunnel finally bursting out onto the helipad. The others were already on board the three Blackhawks, waving them over. As they came abreast of the helicopters, the first of the zombies appeared from the tunnel. Before they were all fully aboard, the helicopters began lifting off, leaving the creatures below.

As they began moving over the facility compound, Marshall began detonating the explosives they'd rigged on the remaining helicopters as well as the docks and generators. Looking at the destruction below, they saw a group of soldiers running towards the helicopters they'd arrived on just as the zombies began breaking through.

"It's Davis!" Steele yelled out to Briggs as she saw her former lover leading the charge to the helicopters. Together they watched as he and a few others leaped on board the news helicopter, the rotors coming to life. They began to lift off, leaving the others behind. Sanchez held out a remote detonator to Briggs. Looking briefly at Steele, she flicked the first switch, detonating one of the Blackhawks, causing the soldiers on the ground to run back towards the facility. The next switch brought the news helicopter crashing down in a ball of flames. Finally she blew the last Blackhawk as they cleared the edge of the island.


	21. Regrouping

It was almost midnight when most of the passengers on the Blackhawks realized where they were heading. Within a half hour more they reached their destination, the Crossroads Mall. As they approached, they began a slow circling of the mall shining spotlights down on the entrances trying to determine if the mall had been breached in their absence. The doors appeared to be holding up, but the zombies surrounding the mall were significantly fewer in number, raising their suspicions. Finally, the three helicopters descended upon the rooftop. The passengers began disembarking, even before the rotors slowed to a stop, waiting impatiently to learn why they had returned there of all places. The soldiers worked unloading equipment, apparently setting up camp. Finally Briggs turned from the helicopters and spoke. 

"We'll stay on the roof tonight, keep guards posted in case those things have breached the building. Tomorrow morning we'll send a squad down to make sure it's all clear. Any questions?"

"Yea, I've got one," Monica called out, moving away from Steve's side, "What the hell are we doing back here?" There was a general murmur of agreement from the others.

"Because, if it is still secure, then it's our best place to lay low for a few days. It gives us some time figure out what our game plan is going to be, decide if we're going to attempt to make contact with other military units, maybe find more survivors."

This time it was Fran's trembling voice that called out, "You mean you dragged us out of there without any kind of plan where to go?" Peter reached down and took her hand, squeezing it, silently offering his support.

"If we stayed there it was a death sentence," Briggs replied, matter-of-factly. "Out here,  
we're still on death row, but at least we have a reprieve, a real chance at surviving. Or did you want them to experiment on you the way they did your two friends?" She pointed towards Fran's slightly curving belly, the evidence of the child growing there. "Maybe they'd keep you around, experiment on your baby instead?"

Fran looked down mutely, thinking of Luda and her baby. Judging from the silence around her, the same thoughts were on all their minds.

Turning to her own group of soldiers Briggs called out, "Sanchez, Marshall, Walker, you've got the first watch with me."

Without any more protest everyone began settling in for the night. Terry and Nicole curled up together near where their telescope still stood, a reminder of nights past. A shrill whistle bringing the dog running over to them. Steve and Monica moved off towards a corner of the roof out of sight of the rest of them, the furtive moans telling everyone what was going on. Even Ana and Michael openly curled up together for the first time that night, no longer denying that maybe they could have something together, if they survived.

A few hours later, after most everyone else had settled down to sleep finally, Briggs stood looking out over the parking lot. CJ walked up quietly to stand beside her.

"Aren't there a lot more of them down there now then when we arrived?" he asked in a hushed tone, staring out at the parking lot himself.

"They know there's food for them here again."

CJ looked sharply at her, "What makes you say that?"

Sighing, she turned to look him full in the face before answering. "It's the only thing that makes any sense. These things appear to have some kind of pack mentality, and the pack always seems to end up where the food source is, always increasingin theirnumbers."

"And we're the food source," CJ said, stating the obvious. Briggs just nodded, so he asked another question that had been bothering him since it had all began. "So if they're dead, why do they need a food source at all?"

"I don't think it's a need for them, not in the true sense of the word. Look at them down there," she gestured to the parking lot. "When was the last time any of them fed? Days? Weeks? I think feeding is just an impulse for them, that they can go on indefinitely whether they feed or not." Taking a long, last look below, she sat down, settling her back against the short wall. After a moment CJ joined her and for a few brief moments that sat companionably in silence.

"So what's going to happen now?" CJ suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "If they don't need to feed to survive, I mean."

"We keep with the basic plan, we lay low, at the most try to find more survivors, and be thankful that this happened going into summer instead of winter."

"What plan, how do we lay low, and why be glad it's summer?"

"The basic plan is just surviving. We'll have to find places like this where we can hole up,  
re-supply our food, water. Fuel for those helicopters will pose the biggest problem. What ammunition we have isn't going to last forever either," she reminded him. "As for why we should be grateful it's summer, the heat will speed up the decomposition on those things. They may be fast now, but once the sinews and muscle start rotting away it's going to slow them down, hell, who can run with their legs falling off of them?" she gave a small humorless laugh. "If it was winter time, the cold would slow down the rate of decay. They'd be mobile for a lot longer than I think they'll be now. Once they start slowing down, losing limbs that haven't already been bitten off we'll be able to take them out real quick, be free to move around on the ground more. Take back our world."

"Why don't we just stay here then? It's already the middle of June, a few more weeks and it should really be heating up out there," CJ commented, hesitant to admit that being back at the mall already made him feel safer, more confident than he'd been in weeks. "Hell, even now you can smell them rotting."

"It's gonna to be too dangerous to stay here for more than a few days, someone associated with Gull Island might come looking for us," Briggs replied softly.

"I thought Randall said you guys were going to completely sanitize the facility."

"And we did. Whoever was left when we flew out would have been seeking shelter in the upper levels of the facility, probably hoping to barricade themselves into a room somewhere in the hopes that they'd be rescued. When the patrols started getting scaled back due to Frankenstein's research demands I had Sanchez, Jones and Cook start setting booby traps. Trust me, there isn't anyone left alive there." She'd been staring off in the distance as she spoke, as if visualizing what had happened.

"So who would be looking for us then?"

"Either Timmons or Steiner was in contact with someone on the outside, another group holed up somewhere, probably doing the same kind of research. When they go without any communication for an unusually extended period, something outside the norm, someone's going to come looking to find out why. I don't want even the slightest chance that they're gonna spot our birds here on the roof and put two and two together."

They sat in silence again, each drawing comfort from the other. Finally CJ spoke, trying to lighten the mood. "So, why didn't you tell me you and Cowboy were married?"

She looked at him, "Someone's got a big mouth I see. And we're not married, we've been divorced a long time."

"I know. I just thought it was kind of interesting, you two working together like you do,  
with that kind of history and all. Now, me and my ex-wife we couldn't get along like that for anything."

"How long were you married for?"

"Four long miserable years. She was eighteen, just graduated from high school, I was nineteen and thought I had all the answers. Anyways, right after her graduation party she drops the bomb on me that she was pregnant, so I up and married her."

"So what happened then?"

"We fought all the time, she'd run off and stay at her sister's house for a few days getting drunk. Then one day we fought and she ran off to her sister's, but she decided to take the kid with her. He was only three and a half. While they lounged around on the couch getting drunk they didn't hear him get up from his nap. Anyways, he fell in the pool, drowned..."

"Jesus, I'm sorry for bringing it up CJ."

"It's alright, it was a long time ago." He gave a choked sounding laugh before saying,  
"Do you want to know what the worst part of the whole thing was? It was at his funeral that the bitch told me he wasn't even mine."

"Hey Kenny," Cowboy's voice startled them both, neither having heard him approach. "I'll take over the watch, why don't you grab a few hours of sleep."

Briggs nodded at him and stood up, grabbing up her rucksack. CJ followed suit. Together they walked, not towards the others, but to the far side of the roof. They settled in against the wall again, trying to make themselves comfortable, neither ready to fall asleep yet.

"Can I ask you something CJ?"

CJ looked startled, "Yea, go ahead."

"Why'd you tell me all that about your marriage?"

"You want the truth?"

"Yea."

"I don't have a fucking clue," he laughed. "I just didn't want to talk about people chasing after us anymore. It all kinda slipped out." He looked sheepish then, almost like a kid in school who got caught passing a note so the teacher made him read it out loud to the class.

Briggs smiled. "Me and Cowboy, we went through basic together, then AIT. We were best friends, well, best friends with benefits. I gave him the nickname Cowboy, he couldn't stand being known as Charles Edward Tyler the Third," she intoned in a suitably snobby voice before breaking into laughter at the memory. "We were assigned to the same post after AIT, that's when I found out I was pregnant. We got married, I miscarried a few months later, so I gave him his freedom. We're a lot better at being friends then we are at being married."

"So now it's my turn to ask, why are you telling me this?"

"Consider it tit-for-tat. We're even, story time has now ended. Unless.." she trailed off.

"Unless what?" CJ asked suspiciously.

"What's the story behind the 'CJ' initials?"

He grimaced. "You absolutely have to swear you won't laugh, and you won't tell another living soul."

"Deal. Now spill it, what's your full name?"

"Calvin James Smith."

She started to smile.

"I told you no laughing," he said, face flushing red in the moonlight.

"I'm not laughing," she declared, even as her lips continued to twitch with a smile.

CJ suddenly leaned over and kissed her. After a few moments, once she'd untwined her arms from around his neck, she asked, "What was that for?"

"Just thought it would keep you from laughing."

"Effective."

"I thought so."

They lay back then, pulling a blanket from her rucksack to use as a pillow. After sharing a few more kisses they finally gave themselves up to sleep. When the sun began to rise, CJ woke to find himself alone, the blanket beneath his head the only sign that the previous night had really happened.


	22. Preparations

After he awoke, CJ joined the others by the Blackhawks expecting to find Briggs. "What's going on?" he asked to no one in particular when he didn't see her there. 

"We've got a search team going through the mall right now, making sure it's still all clear," Michael answered.

"How long they been down there?"

"About twenty minutes now, they headed down as soon as it was light out. They're checking all the entrances, the doorways to the garage, the sewers, everything. Said if we heard gunfire or they weren't back in an hours time we should take off." Michael turned to Cowboy then, his attention directed towards the rifle in the soldier's hands. "Shouldn't we have some kind of weapons too?"

"Once we find out if we're gonna need to make a hasty retreat from here or not we'll worry about getting weapons for your people," Cowboy told him. He was only half listening to Michael and the others, focusing instead on the door to the stairwell, his M4 rifle grasped firmly.

"Why didn't you go down there with her?" CJ asked him.

"She took five troops with her, didn't want me along," he replied, barely sparing CJ a glance. "Said if the worst happened we'd be a lot better off having the majority of our pilots on the roof to get these birds in the air." He nodded his head towards the Blackhawks at his back.

Kenneth and Henry caught the last bit of his response as they came closer to the small group they had formed. Both men were armed, Kenneth having talked his brother into providing him with a 12 gauge shotgun similar to the one he'd been carrying when he'd first arrived at the mall. Henry had a M16A2 rifle slung on his shoulder. "So how many of your people can pilot these things?" Kenneth called out. His brother answered.

"Cowboy, Masters and myself," he stated the obvious since they'd been the ones to pilot the helicopters away from Gull Island. "Briggs, Steele and Marshall all can too."

Looking around at the others gathered on the rooftop, CJ realized that of the six pilots that Henry had just listed Briggs was the only one who'd gone down below. "So if she can pilot, why'd she go down there?" he asked. "Couldn't she have sent someone else?"

"Guess she likes to prove that she isn't the kind of leader who sends her men in somewhere she wouldn't go herself," Cowboy drawled out, still watching the door.

"So how long do you figure we'll be staying here then?" Michael asked, hastily adding, "If everything is all clear down there, I mean."

"Probably not more than two days," Henry replied.

"Unless the weather turns," Cowboy added, pointing towards some dark clouds building up on the horizon. "We're not going to want to be out flying somewhere with no place to land if it starts storming." The others nodded their agreement.

By the edge of the roof, Fran and Ana stood together, looking down at the parking lot as they spoke. "I just wish we could stay here," Fran was saying, "we're safe here, safer than we've been anywhere else at least." Absently she rubbed her slightly protruding belly, giving Ana the impression that here fear was more about her baby than anything.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find another place like this that'll be just as safe. We'll be able to set up house and wait this all out," Ana tried to reassure her.

"But what about the baby? Who's going to deliver it?" queried Fran in a near whisper, her fear evident.

"Fran, I'm a nurse. I've assisted with dozens of births, it'll be okay." Ana mentally crossed her fingers over that little white lie. She worked in the emergency room at the hospital no where near labor and delivery. But she'd studied the basics in nursing school, and she used to talk shop with some the labor and delivery nurses when they were all on break together, so she was fairly confident she could handle anything.

"But what if there's a problem? Something we're not prepared for..." Fran continued to fret, nervously pulling out a cigarette. She was still smoking the odd cigarette, usually when she put a lot of thought into what the future could bring, it was something Ana had lectured her about more than a few times when they'd been at the research lab.

"We'll get through it Fran, you're just going to have to trust me on that. But if you really are worried about complications, maybe you should lay off the cigarettes completely. They're not good for the baby you know," chided Ana with her 'Doctor knows best' voice. She almost smiled at the memory of how she and Cora used to take breaks together at the hospital, using just such a voice to mock the Doctors on duty that had pissed them off the most that day.

Fran rolled her eyes, but tucked the cigarette back into the package anyway. "Haven't I asked you enough times to lay off about the that?"

"Nope. Remember, I'm the closest thing to a doctor that we have left around here, so it's up to me to nag." Ana and Fran both smiled at each other than.

The door to the stairwell swung open then, Sanchez walked through, rifle slung over his shoulder. "All clear below," he said. "Briggs wants everyone down there." He turned and retreated down the stairs once more.

"So who declared little miss queen bee was in charge?" Steve asked loudly.

"She's kept your ass alive so far hasn't she?" Walker asked as he walked towards the stairwell door, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Steve laughed and called out towards the soldier's retreating back, "You say that like it's a bad thing." The rest of the group ignored him, clearly used to his outbursts by now, and followed Walker down the stairs. After a few moments longer, Steve gave up and headed below himself, muttering about redheads all the way down.

They all congregated in the food court, like they'd done so many times before. Briggs spoke as soon as everyone had assembled, looking towards the civilians who had grouped together as she did. "Nice little weapons cache you folks had here. Our arms situation is definitely not as weak as I thought it was coming in here." She held a model G3/SG1 Heckler und Koch semi-automatic rifle, that had once been a prized possession of Andy's, in her hands. "Our first order of business is going to be making sure that everyone is outfitted with a weapon of some kind." She directed a look towards where Nicole, Monica, and Glen were seated. "And don't worry, before we leave here you will know how to use them, plenty of targets outside to practice on. Secondly, I'm going to put together a duty roster, everyone is going to have a job either gathering up equipment that we're going to need and helping to get it loaded up on the birds or pulling watch on the roof. Understood?"

"Cowboy said we'd only be here a couple days," Michael called out, "Are you sure that that is going to be enough time to do all that?"

"Plenty. I'm also going to be taking a team over to Ft. Pastor, see if the dead have cleared out enough yet. We may be able to scavenge some supplies there too."

"Are you insane?" Steve called out. "I mean, to me and I'm sure every other sane individual here it kinda sounds like you have a death wish sweetie. And I don't do manual labor, that's for the blue collar types like your boyfriend," he sneered.

"Steve, shut the fuck up!" demanded CJ.

"What's the matter CJ? Don't like me saying the truth?" Steve goaded him.

Before CJ could say anymore, the sound of a rifle shot echoed through the mall, drawing everyone's attention once again to Briggs. "Are we finished kids? Henry, your in charge of getting the weapons assigned. Steele, put together and assign the duty roster, I want guards on the roof at all times until we're ready to pull out. Preferably I'd like to see the supplies ready to load by the time I get back. Cowboy, Sanchez, Cook, Jones, Walker, Evans let's go take a look at the Fort." She turned on her heel, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and walked out followed by her team.

"Wait, they're not really serious about going out there are they?" Michael asked Henry.

"Looks to me like they are."

"But why? We've got plenty of supplies here," Michael stammered. CJ voiced his agreement.

"She wants to snag another helicopter, try to score some medical supplies, things that we don't have ready access to here. I wouldn't be surprised if she's trying to find some kind of satellite link-up to see if she can contact her old boss, if he's still alive that is."

"What do we need another helicopter for? We've already go three of them." CJ said.

Michael cut in then. "Forget about the helicopter CJ, what do you mean contacting her old boss? Who the hell do you people work for?"

"We're employed by the government, that's all you need to know. As for the additional helicopter, we have 24 people to haul around already, plus equipment. If we want to try and search out more survivors we're going to need it."

"You're being awful vague there Henry, exactly who in the government do you work for and what about Briggs and the others?" Michael pressed. "And don't give me any 'need to know' bullshit either. I want the truth."

"You ever see that movie the Bourne Identity?" Henry asked him, smiling slightly.

"Yea, why?"

"That's the kind of shit Briggs and Cowboy have been doing for years now, at least I'm pretty sure it is." Henry responded.

"You're a bunch of assassins?" Michael scoffed.

"Not myself personally, like I said, that's more Briggs and Cowboy's line of work," Henry said, "I'm more of the spy satellite, computer hacking kind of guy. Same with Steele."

"What about the others?" CJ asked, confused.

"We're kind of a mixture,CIA, NSA, Special Operations, all that good shit. Some of us are in deeper than others, like I wouldn't bet my life that you'd ever find a goverment agency with Briggs or Cowboy lited on the payroll."

"I don't get it, why would the government pull a bunch of people like that in for something like this?" Michael asked.

"You're better off not understanding. Except for maybe Briggsor Cowboy I seriously doubt any of us know the real reasoning behind it all. Now, let's go check out those weapons Briggs was talking about, get you all geared up. We can grab a few hours on the roof doing some practice shooting."

"I want to know more about this Henry, I think we have a right," stated Michael.

"Agreed. But I can't tell you anything more than I know. Let's take care of the weapons training first, we'll worry about getting the facts after the others get back," Henry reasoned.

After pulling a variety of weapons out of the cache they'd put together from Andy's store,  
they spent the next few hours on the roof making sure everyone could handle a firearm. Glen, Monica, Fran, Nicole and Ana were the only ones who had no experience at all with guns of any sort. Steve and Terry could passably handle a pistol, but weren't very handy with rifles. With a little bit of practice and tutelage from Michael, Ana proved to be a natural with the 9mm Beretta pistol she was given. Fran excelled with the M4 rifle that Peter was coaching her on. Glen could passably handle a pistol by the time they were finished as well, courtesy of Steele's efforts. As far as Monica and Nicole went, everyone was just content that they had an understanding which end of the weapon the bullets came out of. When it came time to call it quits for lunch, there were a couple dozen of the zombies down in the parking lot that had been taken down with headshots.


	23. The Unexpected

Flying over the city again Walker was reminded of what a war zone it had become. Smoke blackened buildings filled the skyline, while burned out vehicles filled the streets below and broken glass littered the ground, glittering in the sunlight. The walking dead could still be seen trudging through the city streets in search of living human flesh. It was surreal to the young soldier the way that dogs, cats and wild animals could walk those same streets with the zombies completely unscathed. As they neared the ruins of Ft. Pastor, corpses littered the ground outside the gates of the post, a lasting reminder of the final stand made by soldiers and civilians alike. 

Walker watched the zombies still staggering onto the blackened ruins of the post. Their numbers had visibly thinned over the weeks since that last flight out before the fall. He glanced around at his companions briefly, trying to gauge their thoughts. Cowboy was piloting the Blackhawk, Jones sat beside him in the co-pilot seat despite his inability to actually fly the thing. The rest of the group were in the rear with him, looking calm and relaxed, much to his amazement. Cowboy and Briggs were talking over the headsets they wore, although he couldn't make out what was being said over the noise of the rotors, he assumed they were discussing their plan of attack.

Glancing below once more, Walker saw that they were rapidly approaching the post's airfield and his stomach clenched in fear. There was no way he wanted to land down there and leave the safety of the helicopter, not with all of those things lingering in wait for a meal down there. The helipads and hangers came into view, still crawling with zombies winding their way between abandoned and ruined helicopters and humvees. He swallowed hard, silently praying that they'd just turn around and head back to the mall now that they'd seen what was below. Briggs and Walker were still talking, and the rest of them still appeared relaxed, as if they were going for a boring Sunday drive rather than on this suicide mission. Lost in these thoughts, he almost didn't notice that the helicopter was starting to bank slightly to the southeast, moving away from the helipad.

"Hey, where are we going?" Walker hollered over the rotors when he finally noticed the change in course. He hoped it meant they were going to return to the mall.

Sanchez looked at him and called back, "Alternate plans Junior, just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Momentarily stunned with the realization that they weren't returning to the mall or landing at Pastor, Walker sat, watching the scenery pass by beneath them as he tried to grasp what was happening. They were moving out over forested countryside now, the outermost sector of the post where field exercises were often conducted. Amazingly, the clearings they passed over appeared devoid of the zombies, although they could have remained camouflaged beneath the foliage of the trees. At least 45 minutes later they finally came upon another city, or at least the remains of one. It was smaller than Everett, but looked like a war zone just the same. Turning slightly westerly they headed towards the city's large, three story high school where a lone, massive CH-53 Stallion helicopter sat. His first feelings upon the sight of the helicopter was relief, automatically assuming that there were more survivors here, but then he noticed how devoid of life the rooftop seemed. They began to descend, going in for a landing on top of the roof themselves.

"What the hell is that?" he called out, hoping to get some answers.

As they touched down, Briggs and the others began climbing from the Blackhawk as Cowboy shut it down. Walker scrambled after the others, calling out again, "Did you hear me? I said what the hell is this?"

Sanchez smiled at him, sarcastically replying, "That, that's a helicopter, some people use them for flying in."

"Can it Sanchez," Briggs ordered. "Walker, stay with the Blackhawk, Jones, Cook, baby-sit Walker."

"Baby-sit! What the fuck is going on Sarge?" Walker demanded.

"Walker my friend, there are some things in life that you're better off not knowing about until I'm good and ready to tell you about them. This is one of them. Now then, you can argue with me and piss me off so I slit your throat or you can follow orders. Your choice," Briggs said coolly before walking towards the Stallion helicopter.

"She can't do that..." Walker stammered.

Cook patted him on the back as he walked by him and said, "Walker my man, that woman can pretty much do any damn thing she wants at this point, and quite frankly, we're going to let her as long as she can prove to us that what she's doing will keep us alive." Jones nodded his head, murmuring his agreement.

Briggs and Sanchez climbed on board the Stallion, seeing food, arms and medical supplies,  
as well as a satellite communications up-link stowed away there. Smiling Briggs said, "Looks like Christmas came early this year and Santa got me exactly what I asked for."

"Santa?" Sanchez inquired.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't Santa," she grinned, "the important thing is that it's here, and that means my last transmission before we got the hell off the Island went through."

Carefully, Briggs hauled the communications equipment to the door of the Stallion. She called out, "Cowboy, get this set-up, see if you can get a link with Scarecrow." As Cowboy went to work with the up-link, Briggs returned to the supplies, checking through the medical ones.

Sanchez frown as he watched her. "Forceps, epidural, you planning on giving birth Briggs?"

"They're for the pregnant chick back at the mall, I figure our little resident nurse can make use of that stuff if we have to keep them around long term. From the looks of her she's gotta be pushing five months along or better, if we don't get some good news soon we might be stuck with her right up until she delivers."

"Briggs! We've got the link established," Cowboy called through the doorway. She hurried outside, followed by Sanchez.

Smiling she looked at the face staring back at her from the laptop computer monitor and said, "Damn Scarecrow, I never thought I'd be happy to look at your ugly mug."

"The feelings mutual. What's your status?" The man on the monitor asked.

"Cowboy, Sanchez, how about some privacy here?" she asked. The two men exchanged looks before heading off to join the others by the Blackhawk. Turning back to the monitor she finally replied, "The mark's been terminated, all evidence destroyed."

"Do the others suspect anything?"

"Nah, as long as you remember to call me Briggs we should be golden. Cowboy and I have been laying our cover stories on pretty thick. Any news on Dillon?"

"He's holed up with the President and whatever cabinet members we were able to get evacuated before the White House fell. We've got them all on naval vessels anchored just off from New Berne Island. Conveniently the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Unit was in the middle of training exercises there when the shit hit the fan, they're on baby-sitting detail for the President and the cabinet members."

"2nd MEU, that's where they stuck you isn't it? And are those Lieutenant's bars I see Scarecrow?" she chided him, almost playfully.

"You're an evil bitch," he said and smiled just as Cowboy walked up behind Briggs again.

"I think we're gonna have a serious problem with Junior talking to the others," he said without preamble.

"We'll deal with it later Cowboy. Right now, we've got other business that takes priority. What's the latest word from Dillon, Scarecrow?" Briggs asked. "Any changes in the directive?"

"No, he still wants you to move your people back to the east, the closer you can get to us the better."

"That doesn't help our supply situation, even with your little gift basket here we're going to need food, fuel and probably more weapons again."

"There're maps in with the supplies on the Stallion marking possible fuel depots all through the Midwest and along the east coast. I can't guarantee that you'll be able to get all your birds in and fueled without any problems, but at least you aren't out there flying completely blind. You might want to think about dropping some of the Blackhawks, with the Stallion you really don't need any of them, but that's really your call. Stay in contact as much as possible, and I'll let you know if there's any changes. I'll see if we can work something out for your arms situation, food too, but you may be on your own for a while there," Scarecrow told her.

Briggs ended the transmission and Cowboy began packing up the equipment. As he worked he asked, "So what are we going to do about Walker? If he starts talking to the rest of them about what went on here, we could be fucked."

Briggs didn't even hesitate before saying, "We lie. Tell them you picked up a call over the radio with co-ordinates to this location. We were the only ones with the headsets on, so it'd be pretty hard for him to dispute whether or not it really happened."

"In case you forgot Kenny, you threatened to slit the kid's throat," he reminded her.

"I didn't threaten him, I warned him that he was pissing me off and that there would be consequences for his actions. Maybe not in so many words, but I think I got my point across," she declared.

"But why didn't you want him going near the helicopter? You know they'll ask."

"Jesus Cowboy, you act like I've never done this before. We weren't sure if this was a set-up, something put together by people affiliated with Gull Island. I didn't need an inexperienced kid accidentally setting off any booby traps that might have been left by these unknown persons."

"That could work Kenny, but you definitely aren't going to win any personality or popularity contests with these guys."

"Fuck them. They're alive and I'm keeping them that way, what more could they want?"


	24. The Return

The return flight to the mall seemed to drag on unbearably for Walker. Briggs had reasonably explained her actions to himself and the others, but he wasn't sure what to believe anymore. They were bringing the helicopter that Briggs and the others called a Stallion back with them. His first instinct, if they really had thought it could be a possible set-up to trap them, was to load the supplies onto the Blackhawk and leave the other helicopter behind. When he'd said as much Briggs had automatically vetoed the idea, stating that the Stallion was too valuable of an asset to leave behind. Besides that, she had pointed out that the lone Blackhawk that had brought them there couldn't carry the six of them plus the additional payload of supplies. So now Walker found himself onboard the Stallion, being piloted by Briggs, with Sanchez along for the ride. 

"We're approaching the outskirts of Everett," Briggs called out, startling Walker momentarily from his thoughts. "ETA to the mall 15 minutes."

Only 15 minutes left to figure out what to tell the others at the mall, Walker thought to himself. Was she telling the truth or not? He feared he would drive himself crazy trying to understand what was going on around him. A part of him thought that maybe he should leave well enough alone, he was alive afterall, as Cook had so eloquently pointed out. And Briggs did seem like a person who could keep him that way. Another part of him was scared to death that she'd sacrifice the lot of them in a heartbeat if that's the move she felt she needed to make. He could feel the helicopter touching down on the roof of the mall, and watched as Briggs began shutting down the machine. When they climbed out of the helicopter he saw the others had landed too, and that CJ and Terry were standing watch on the mall roof. Nicole was up there as well, she never strayed far from Terry's side if she could help it, he thought. She was playing fetch with the dog that she fawned over like it was a baby.

After seeing them climbing from the helicopters, CJ, Terry and Nicole hurried over to join them. "What the hell is this? Just a little souvenir that you picked up or what?" CJ asked, curious at the sight of the new helicopter.

"CH-53 Stallion," Briggs said, continuing to walk towards the stairwell door. CJ watched her walk away from him for a moment then quickly moved to follow her. "I meant where and how did you get it," he said, trying to reconcile her behavior that day with woman he'd spent the night before with, it was almost like being with Jekyll and Hyde.

She came to a sudden stop, turning to look him full in the face before speaking. "Ft. Pastor was a complete wash. We were making a sweep over the post when Cowboy picked up some chatter over the radio, turned out to be coordinates to a city south of here. The Stallion was sitting on top of the high school roof, it's loaded with supplies, food, medical andarms. I checked it over, made sure it wasn't booby trapped with explosives or rigged with any kind of a tracking device. It looks clean and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. If we need to we can scrap the Blackhawks and still be able to pick up more survivors," she told him.

"What made you think it would be booby trapped," he asked, curious at the thought.

"Call me paranoid, but like I said before, either Steiner or Timmons was in contact with another unit off the island while we were there. If they sent a search party out there after the communications ceased, they could have seen what we did to their little research facility and decided to hunt us down and take us out for knowing too much. In any way possible I might add. I couldn't take that kind of risk."

"But if there wasn't any kind of trap on it or spy stuff what the hell was it doing there?" CJ pressed.

"The best thing we can hope for is that either someone abandoned it there for some reason, they might have tried something heroically dumb like do a foot search for survivors and they didn't make it back."

"Or?" CJ prompted.

"Or one of my radio calls actually reached one of my old co-workers and they set it up for us. At any rate, we need the stuff and it's ours now, end of discussion."

CJ looked at Terry who had been silently standing just behind them with Nicole by his side, holding his hand as the two of them listened to everything he and Briggs had said. He heard Nicole whisper loudly, "Terry what's she talking about?"

"It'll be okay Nicole, the soldiers know what they're doing, they'll keep us safe. We just have to trust them," he told her, trying to sound more sure of that then he felt. "Excuse me, Sergeant Briggs," he called out, "how much longer do you think we'll be here for?"

"We'll move out at first light. I want to get everything we're going to need loaded up tonight. After I brief the others, we're going to have to make a run to the fuel depot one last time and then we're going to be ready to leave this town behind for good." She turned and pulled open the stairwell door, disappearing inside. The rest of the soldiers followed. CJ, Terry, and Nicole remained on the roof, finishing their guard duty shift.

"What do we need another helicopter for?" Nicole asked Terry.

"I don't know, maybe so we can try to pick up more survivors," he told her.

"Do you really think there's anyone left out there to pick up?" CJ asked.

"You don't seriously think we're the only ones left alive in the whole country do you CJ?" Terry queried in reply.

"No, I don't think we're the only ones left alive. But we just left a group of people who survived and you saw what they were like," he told them. "And I'm starting to think that anyone who did survive the initial outbreak of this thing have either been taken in by people like that, or else they're with people like our soldiers here. Either way, I don't know which is worse."

"But what about the soldiers we have here?" Nicole asked, confused. "Briggs and the others wouldn't be working against us would they?"

"Truthfully I don't know," CJ replied, a tinge of regret in his voice.

"But she likes you CJ," Nicole said naively, as if thatwas the only thingin the world that mattered.

"How do you know Nicole?" CJ countered, beginning to get irritated with the way this conversation was going. It was reminding him too much of the night when Monica had decided to psychoanalyze his love life.

"You're the only one of us that she really talks to," the girl said. "With the rest of us she gives out orders, tells us how things are going to be, but with you it's different."

"Yea, right," he said. "It couldn't be that she's playing me for a sucker could it. Making it seem like there's something more between us then there really is."

"Why would she do something like that?" Terry asked.

"Who knows. I just don't know if we can really trust her, if I can really trust her," he said quietly. "One minute it seems like we're friends, the next...I just don't know."

Walker approached them and spoke. "I don't blame you for having some doubts about Briggs," he said softly, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the other soldiers still standing by the helicopters. "I feel the same way about her."

"How so?" CJ asked, curiosity over what the young man had to say getting in the way of his better judgment.

"There are moments when you feel like you're invincible with her along. The way she puts together a strategy and then practically wills fate to make things end the way she wants them to. Then comes the moments of fear. That sheer terror when you realize without a single doubt in your mind that she'd take you out without hesitation if that's what she felt was necessary for her plans to come to fruition."

Nicole stared wide-eyed at the young soldier, such thoughts having never entered her mind before. She still tended to romanticize things, thinking of Briggs and CJ as two star-crossed lovers brought together by the tragedy around them. Reality intruded when CJ nodded his head in agreement to what Walker had said, either unwilling or incapable of voicing his agreement out loud.

"But CJ," she began to say before Terry cut her off.

"They're right Nicole," he stated softly, reaching out to wrap his arm around the girl's waist and draw her closer. "We really don't know what they're planning for us, only that whatever it is she's in charge. We're all like a bunch of puppets and she's the puppeteer pulling our strings," he finished sadly. Giving Nicole one last squeeze he walked back over to the side of the building where he'd been before the helicopters had arrived. He just stood there, staring out at the sea of zombies below that seemed to be growing right in front of his eyes. After a moment CJ followed suit, leaving Nicole and Walker standing alone together in silence.

"I really hope you guys are wrong about Briggs," Nicole said finally, breaking the silence.

Staring at the pretty redhead in front of him, Walker felt a momentary stab of jealousy that Terry had been here to meet her first. Squashing the thought almost as soon as it started,  
he replied, "So do I little girl, so do I." Then he too walked away, taking a seat in the doorway of one of the Blackhawks and silently proceeding to dismantle and clean his weapon, for all intents and purposes ignoring everyone and everything around him.

Meanwhile, Briggs was entering the food court area, feeling almost amazed at the amount of work Steele and the others had accomplished in the time they'd been gone. There were plastic milk crates loaded with water bottles and non-perishable foods sitting next to stacks of blankets and clothing. She'd already passed the duffle bags loaded with the weapons and ammunition sitting just outside the stairwell door.

She came upon the others, sitting in the food court again, just like before they'd flown out towards the Fort. Steele looked up just in time to see Briggs' entrance. "Sarge!" she called out, purposely alerting the others to her presence. "How'd your search party make out with Pastor?"

Briggs walked to the counter at Hallowed Grounds, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long pull from it before speaking. "Pastor was a bust, it's almost as thick with those things as what the parking lots outside this place are. But we did pick up some noise on the radio. Turned out to be coordinates being broadcast on a loop, directed us to a town south of here. We checked it out, kind of expected it to be another group of survivors. All we found was a helicopter loaded with supplies just sitting there waiting for us on the roof of the local high school."

"What was it doing there?" Ana asked.

"Unknown. The best case scenario is that one of my former colleagues picked up my distress calls before we flew out of the Gull Island facility and had it prepped and waiting for us."

"What's the worst case?" Michael called out, afraid he already knew the answer.

"That it's a set-up by somebody affiliated with the island, but I really don't think that's the case."

"Why's that?" Michael asked.

"Because it was clear of any booby traps, there were no tracking devices on board. None of the supplies appear to have been tampered with in any way. It all looks pretty much on the level."

"Are there any other options besides those two?" Ana called.

"There's always the remote chance that there could have been a group of survivors who landed it there. Maybe they got careless, tried to pull off a rescue or secure the rest of the building on foot and didn't make it. I don't know. It was fully loaded with food and medical supplies along with more arms, so there's no way anyone would have just abandoned it."

"So what now?" Kenneth called out, joining in the conversation.

"Right now I'm going to take a group out and get the helicopters refueled. Evans, Peter,  
I'd like you to ride shot gun with Cowboy and Jones. Masters, Marshall and Steele, you'll join Cook on the second Blackhawk. Henry, Kenneth and Roger if you'd be good enough to join Walker and crew the third. Michael, I want you and CJ to join myself and Sanchez on the Stallion."

"Wait, that's over half of our people!" Fran protested, dreading the thought that Peter would be alone on a helicopter with some of the soldiers.

"I understand your concern Fran, really I do, but we need the four man teams for each of the birds on this fueling operation," Briggs told them.

"Why?" Frank asked, still uncomfortable with the idea.

"I want the pilot to remain onboard, be ready to dust off on a spit second notice. One person will be needed to man the fuel pump for each bird, the remaining two will be lookouts. We need to be prepared for any type of an attack, be it from the dead or the living. I'm counting on the rest of you to bring all the supplies you've gathered up to the roof while we're gone. There should be just enough light left when we return to get it all loaded. I want us to be ready to move out at first light tomorrow. We've probably stayed here too long as it is."

With that she started walking out of food court, heading back out the way she'd come in. After a few seconds of hesitation, the rest of them she'd named started to follow her.


	25. Contact

It was a nearly silent group that flew out to the fuel depot, broken only by the occasional radio chatter between the pilots. Briggs remained on the alert for other possible aircraft in the vicinity, but stretching out in all directions from the four helicopters was nothing but clear blue skies. The journey was short, no more than 20 minutes passed before they arrived. The barricades were still holding up, with the zombies remaining minimal in number much like on their previous visits. After the helicopters set down, the lookouts took up positions around all the crafts, and the fueling began. The pilots were communicating amongst themselves over the radios, still watching the skies around them. Everything went off without a hitch until Briggs suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Then she saw them, black spots in the sky to the north, too far off to tell for sure what they were, but close enough to guess that they were approaching helicopters. 

"Cowboy, check your one o'clock, do you see what I see?" Briggs spoke over the radio.

"Roger that, looks like we've got company. Do we bring the kids back in?"

"Negative, let's just see what they do for a minute, get an idea what we're dealing with." There was a long pregnant pause as Briggs continued to peer out the windshield of the Stallion, watching the black dots move closer and take on a distinctive shape. "Fuck me Cowboy, are my eyes deceiving me or are those a couple of Little Birds?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

"Briggs, Cowboy," Masters suddenly chimed in, "we've got uninvited guests."

"Roger that Masters. Henry you listening?" Briggs queried.

"Affirmative," his deep bass voice sounded over the headset.

"Signal your crews, let's get the fuck out of here. Take evasive actions. Henry, Masters break left, Cowboy follow me to the right. Nobody take a direct line to the mall, lets see if we can confuse them a little, buy us some time."

The crews rushed back onboard the helicopters, which went airborne before they even sat down, causing them to grasp wildly for anything to keep their balance. Suddenly an explosion went up beneath them, taking out a large section of the barricade. Another followed behind it,the fuel pumps going up in flames this time,causing an explosion big enough to make the helicopters to shudder. In the middle of all this, CJ stumbled to the front of the Stallion and threw himself into the co-pilot's seat, grabbing for the headset. "Briggs what the hell was that?" he asked, fear lending an edge to his voice.

"The explosions or what shot them?" she asked distractedly.

"Both," he replied.

"Rockets, looks like at least one, probably both, of those AH-6 Little Birds are armed with them."

"What the fuck is a Little Bird, and why in hell would they take out the fuel supply?" CJ demanded.

"My guess would be they're under orders to sever our lifelines. Without fuel we can't make any runs for it now can we? A Little Bird is a two seat attack helicopter, nice little piece of equipment for a hit and run job like this, they're quick, maneuverable.." she trailed off as Cowboy's voice came over the radio.

"Hey boss lady, they're splitting up, one for each of our groups."

"I see it, the other two are gonna have to deal with one on their own."

"You gotta plan?"

"Yea, how do you feel about being the bait?"

"About as good as I feel about having a root canal."

" Good. See those skyscrapers up ahead?"

"Roger."

"On my mark break to the right, around the western most buildings, go low try to get him to follow you, do some zigging and zagging then bring him back around to the east."

"What about you? Where are you going to be?"

"I'm gonna make a run for that building on the east side, try and go in for a landing if he takes the bait and goes after you."

"Do I dare ask why?"

"I've got a Barrett M82 here, if I can get a good shot off we might be able to bring him down."

"Damn, I wish we had something better then that."

"I'mthe fucking sniper asshole, so unless you got any better ideas that you want to tell me about, this is what we're going with."

"It's all on you boss lady, just do me a favor and don't fucking miss!"

"Agreed, so break right now!"

The Blackhawk rolled to the right, dropping down between the buildings, followed by the Little Bird. The Stallion rolled to the left, gaining altitude slightly before dropping again and landing roughly atop the building. Scrambling out of her seat Briggs dashed for the back of the helicopter, pawing for the Barrett rifle. She grabbed it and some ammunition before jumping out of the helicopter door, two of her passengers watching in amazement, while Sanchez hurried to follow her. Running to the side of the building she kneeled there and braced the mounted tripod of the rifle on the roof's edge waiting for the helicopters to reappear. In a matter of minutes the Blackhawk climbed in the sky to their left before disappearing from view between the buildings again.

"Dammit Cowboy!" She gritted out between clenched teeth, twisting her body around to take aim again, where the helicopters would presumably come into view again. Finally the Blackhawk darted into open air, the AH-6 following mere seconds later. Briggs squeezed the trigger, the massive 12.7mm rifle roaring off a shot, shattering the bubble front of the Little Bird on the co-pilot's side, killing him instantly. The pilot briefly fought to maintain control giving Briggs time to take aim for a second shot, this time at the rear rotor of the aircraft, nailing it hard. Black smoke began pouring out of the rotor and moments later it ceased to turn. The entire helicopter pitched forward and began to spin as it plummeted towards the street below.

"Nice job Briggsy," Sanchez commented from behind her.

"Let's just hope the others get as lucky. Let's bust some ass and get back to the mall, I want to be outta there tonight."

Together they walked back to the helicopter, Michael and CJ waited just outside the door. "We're getting out here guys, grab your seats," Briggs told them when she reached them, climbing inside after flashing CJ a brief smile, enjoying the adrenaline rush this encounter had left her with. Returning to the pilot's seat, she put the headset back on and slowly took off.

"Let's get back to base Cowboy," she radioed.

"Nice shooting boss lady, never doubted you for a second," he replied, the grin on his face clearly evident in his voice.

They turned course back to the mall, making the rest of the trip in silence. As they approached they saw the other two Blackhawks already sitting on the roof of the mall. Coming in for a landing themselves, Briggs took note of the activity on the roof, the eight who'd been left behind were now scurrying along side with the crews of the helicopters loading supplies.

After landing and shutting down the Stallion's engines, Briggs disembarked after her own crew, heading towards where Masters and Henry stood. "Any trouble losing the other bird?"

"Bugged out, took off back to wherever it came from," Masters replied.

"Shit, they'll probably be heading this way in force soon," Briggs replied. She called the rest of the group over to where they stood and said, "As soon as we finish getting the supplies loaded we're getting out of here, waiting till morning is out of the question now."

"But what's the rush? It'll be dark soon, are we just going to fly all night?" Fran asked.

"Didn't the others tell you that we ran into some company out there?"

"They said you met two other helicopters, so what?" Fran said.

"Did they mention that they were armed and blew the hell out of the fuel depot?" Briggs countered. Judging from Fran's widening eyes she guessed that they'd withheld some of the details from them. "Listen people we're not playing games here. We took down one of the other helicopters, but the other one made it back to wherever they came from. That means they saw which general direction we were heading in, it's just a matter of time before they have search teams out this way. All they have to do is take one look at those things out there and they're gonna know that this is where we're hiding."

Peter placed an arm around Fran, "It's true Fran, we'd be better off leaving now."

"Any other arguments?" Briggs asked, looking around the group. "Good, get the last of these supplies loaded, then we'll load ourselves up and go. I want 6 people per helicopter for now, we'll adjust later if we need to."

"What about Chips?" Nicole called out in a quavering voice.

"The dog is your responsibility, if he runs off at any time, we leave him." Briggs turned on her heal and began loading bags onto the Stallion. Slowly, the others moved to join her finishing up the job. Shortly afterwards, the helicopters were moving into the air over the mall. Some of the passengers on board them all took long last looks at the place that had been their home for so many weeks as the helicopters began heading back towards the east.


	26. Decisions

They had been in the air just over an hour when Briggs signaled to the others over the radio to be ready to land in about 20 minutes. Those few still awake who had been on the team which had brought back the Stallion assumed, more from the general direction in which they'd been traveling than the ability to see any landmarks below, that they were returning to the town from where they'd retrieved the helicopter. The rest of the passengers had fallen asleep shortly after they'd lifted off from the mall. 

"Kenny what the fuck do have in mind?" Cowboy radioed back.

"We're going to ditch one of the Blackhawks, maybe two."

"We could have done that back at the mall, what's your real reason for stopping now?"

"Actually that is my real reason for stopping. Not everything I do has an ulterior motive Cowboy, don't be so suspicious," she responded coyly.

"Just most everything has an ulterior motive for you, is that it?"

"More or less."

"You're so full of shit," he laughed finally.

"I'm so glad we have that settled," she paused for a moment, smiling slyly to herself. "Oh,  
and while we're transferring the supplies off the Blackhawk, I may as well try to see if I can pick up any signals with the satellite up-link. Since you suggested it and all."

"You little bitch!" he laughed again, "I knew there was an ulterior motive there somewhere."

Briggs was smiling and laughing softly until, glancing over at the seat beside her, she saw that CJ was awake and listening to her half of the conversation, a puzzled look on his face. The laughter ceased and the smile disappeared from her face. "We'll discuss it on the roof Cowboy. Out." She ended the transmission and turned to CJ again, this time sighing. "What's on your mind CJ?"

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I think we'd be better off to ditch at least one of the Blackhawks. We'd be able to have two pilots on each helicopter then, it'll give us the ability to stay in the air longer without having sleep deprivation become an issue."

"I meant the part about the satellite up-link. How long have you had communications with the someone in the outside world?"

"We found it on board the Stallion along with the other supplies. It's what led me to believe my old boss was behind it's being there. Cowboy and I were able to pick up some communications from the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Unit. They're holed up on and around New Berne Island, off the coast of North Carolina. They've got the President with them, along with some of the cabinet. So basically, some of our government still exists. That also leads me to the assumption that if they've been conducting search and rescue operations along that part of the coast, the units would be under orders to bring any survivors there too. It could be just the place you and your friends are looking for."

"Is that who you want to communicate with this time?"

"Not really. I want to see if I can pick up any more signals. There was a National Guard Battalion prepping to deploy to Iraq in the Janesville vicinity. They may have been able to put up some defenses at the airport there. It's back towards the northwest from here, but it may be worth the flight. Another option may be that if our naval units at sea got through all this unscathed, some of our Coast Guard ships out on patrol could have got through it too, if they managed to come up with a food source to sustain them this long. I'm also having a hard time believing that all of our military and research facilities have been compromised. Somebody had to have had the brains to realize how this thing spread, understand that a good ninety-five percent of the wounded should have been abandoned to the fates instead of brought in," she grew silent with her musings.

"Is that it?"

"I get the impression that you don't trust what I say anymore."

"Let's just say I don't consider you to be the most honest person in the world," he told her diplomatically, not wanting to alienate her from him.

"That's good, you should look at everyone you meet that way from here on in because down below my friend is the new world order. Humans have lost their spot at the top of food chain."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"No I didn't," she admitted, unable to hide her grin. "If you must know, what I want to learn is who sent those AH-6's after us and where they're hiding out."

"Do you think they're still looking for us?" he asked, staring out through the windshield into the darkness of the night sky.

"Most likely."

They were quiet for a few moments, CJ digesting the information she had shared with him. He desperately wanted to believe that she was telling him everything, but there was a part of him that held serious reservations about her honesty. "So what else is there that you're not telling me?" he finally asked.

She looked towards the back of the helicopter, seeking out Sanchez who was seated beside Randall. Both appeared to be sleeping, but she couldn't be sure, even with the noise of the helicopter's engines helping to muffle their conversation she refused to take a chance. "Now's not the time CJ."

Seeing where her attentions had wandered, CJ left it alone. "Then can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Absolutely, once I figure out where we're going."

Shaking his head, CJ smiled briefly, looking out at the night sky once again. "All right. Do you think you can tell me where we're at?"

"Yea, we're just north of Chicago."

"The Windy City, maybe we can stop in, get some pizza or something," CJ tried to joke.

Briggs smiled at his effort. "Pizza again! But I wanted to go to the theater, or maybe the ballet."

"You're a cruel woman Sergeant Briggs."

They continued to converse in a similar vein the remainder of the trip to the school. Sometime during the last leg of the journey Michael awoke to the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the front of the helicopter. He smiled, as he rested his cheek on the top of Ana's head. Her head was nestled against his shoulder, using it as a pillow while she slept. It was while enjoying this stolen moment with Ana that Michael realized the helicopter seemed to be losing altitude.

"Ana, wake up!" he whispered softly, yet insistently into her ear, shaking her slightly. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Michael! What time is it? What's going on?" She asked, looking disoriented, she glanced around the helicopter's interior.

"I don't know. I think I fell asleep around the same time you did, when I woke up we seemed to be landing." He glanced at the watch he wore on his wrist. "It looks like it's about 12:30. We can't have gotten too far."

"What could we be stopping for?" Ana asked, her confusion apparent on her face.

"My question would be where are we stopping," Michael said in reply.

Ana's eyes widened at the thought. "Where do you think she's taking us?"

"I don't know, but I'm starting to think that we're putting a little too much faith in people who haven't exactly been telling us the full truth about things."

"Do you think we should have stayed at the mall, Michael?"

"I don't know. Maybe whoever it was that blew up the fuel depot is just after Briggs' group. Maybe they would have killed us if they had found us at the mall had we stayed, there's just no way of knowing."

They felt the helicopter finally touch down on the roof below. After a few moments, Briggs and CJ climbed from the front seats and made their way back to where the supplies had been loaded. She pulled two metal suitcase looking items out and proceeded to exit from the helicopter, sparing CJ a glance, but without a word to any of them.

"CJ, what's going on?" Michael asked, standing and moving towards the doorway where CJ stood watching Briggs walk away.

"I think we're ditching one of the Blackhawks."

Ana joined the two, "But why?"

A voice called out from the back of the helicopter, startling them. "Strategic unloading of unnecessary equipment," Sanchez declared, drawing Ana and Michael's attention. While the others were distracted, CJ swiftly stepped from the helicopter, intent on following Briggs.

Henry, Kenneth, Roger, Peter and Glen were unloading supplies from their Blackhawk when CJ emerged from the door of the Stallion. Masters and Marshall were directing their own crews to rearrange the supplies, and Cowboy was nowhere to be seen, so CJ surmised he was with Briggs on the far side of the building. As he began walking in the direction he'd seen Briggs last headed he could hear Sanchez taking command inside of the Stallion.

"So what's the real story Scarecrow? Who has AH-6's at their disposal, and why the fuck are they blowing my only secure fuel supply all to hell?" Briggs was demanding of what appeared to be a laptop computer when CJ walked up behind her. A man's voice that he'd never heard before answered.

"It was none of my people, I assure you. Dr. Steiner obviously had an extensive reach and influence with our military."

"Bullshit," Briggs replied. "Steiner was a fucking patsy. He may have created that goddamn virus and brought mankind to its knees, but he wasn't smart enough to be able to keep those kinds of connections from my team for any length of time. He was answering to somebody."

"She's right," Cowboy added, stepping into CJ's view.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, I swear that to you," the voice came again, tinged with anger this time. "If you remember I told you the president and some of the cabinet survived. So did the Joint Chiefs and most of their staff."

"Don't tell me that the rumors were true Scarecrow."

"Still unsubstantiated, but in light of what you're telling me, it's definitely looking like more than just a possibility."

"Sonuvabitch!" Cowboy said in disgust.

"So whose side are you on Scarecrow?" Briggs asked.

"The three of us have been together for too long to turn our backs on each other now," he said by way of reply.

"Suitably vague, but let me get to the real point here, those maps on the helicopter, can I trust any of them? Or am I going to burn out my fuel to make it to one of those airfields, only to find it swarming with those things when I arrive? My choicesat that point of course, are either make an emergency landing and be eaten by zombies, or crash the damn things and serve up twenty-four people as a barbecue. Either way we still seem to be ending up dead."

"I don't know, my information on them is inconclusive." On the screen of the laptop Scarecrow could be seen looking around himself. Leaning close to the camera he added quietly, "Remember that place we did that thing the one time?"

Briggs narrowed her eyes for a moment, thinking. Suddenly her eyes brightened, something resembling a smile touching her lips. "Yea, I remember."

"If you can make it there, you'll find what you're looking for, to an extent anyway."

"Understood. Your call on whether or not Dillon knows. I'll be in touch," Briggs said, reaching out and terminating the connection.

"What was that all about?" CJ called out to them.

Briggs turned to look at him and sighed. "I'll take care of this, pack the equipment up Cowboy and get it loaded back up on the Stallion. We're dropping two of the Blackhawks tonight. I want you and Henry on board the Stallion with me, I don't care how the other 10 get split up. When you're done loading up the link come find us." She walked towards CJ, "I guess you probably feel the need to talk."

"I'd say your right."

She lead him over to the edge of the building where she looked down to the parking lot and streets below. The power had long since gone down in the city, but in the pale light of the moon she could still make out the dead walking, searching out food. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"How about you tell me who Scarecrow is," CJ told her.

"Co-worker. We've worked for the same employer the last 7 years or so, give or take."

"And?" CJ prodded.

"We fucked each other a few times, a couple years back. Is that what you want to hear about?"

CJ looked away for a moment. "Just tell me what's going on and how it affects the rest of us."

"I trust Scarecrow to an extent, but I don't know where he's been getting his information or if it's reliable, and judging by what he just said, neither does he. From his body language, I got the impression that he knew who was behind the AH-6's that took out our fuel depot, but obviously he couldn't give me anything concrete proving that, probably means someone is having him watched."

"What about that bit with the Joint Chiefs?"

"There's been some suspicions for awhile now that person or persons unknown on the staff of the Joint Chiefs was playing for someone else's team. We were close to finding out who the guilty party was when this shit happened. We also suspect that those behind the spill are still alive. That's why we'd infiltrated so many different positions where survivors were holed up, we were searching for traitors."

"But you told us that it was an accidental spill, that that Steiner guy was responsible for it all," CJ said.

"Yea, well, I stretched the truth a little bit. The secondary round of infection, with your Olympic athlete zombies," she flung an arm out gesturing randomly at the city of infected people below, "those were the ones he was responsible for. The original infection on the East Coast, that was something a little different."

"And why should I believe you now?" he asked.

"You have absolutely no reason to," she said matter-of-factly.

After a few moments of silence CJ said, "So tell me the rest of it anyway."

"Steiner really was about to start working on a vaccine to try to prevent further infection,  
at least with the minor bites."

"What do you mean about to start working on it?" CJ cut in. "I thought you'd said that was the whole reason for his experiments there on the island."

"Do you want me to finish giving you the facts or are you going to keep interrupting?" she asked.

"Sorry, I'll shut up."

"Good boy. Steiner had always been a crazy fucker, so he'd delayed developing the vaccine and instead went to work on the virus itself, seeing if he could make it better. I guess you could say he was the virus mutation I told you about. Anyways, just before we blew outta Pastor for the last time I received orders from my boss to terminate Steiner. He was too much of a liability to have out there, killing untold numbers of survivors with his little research project."

"Why couldn't Cowboy and the others have done it?" CJ asked.

"Because I had no way to communicate with anyone outside of the facility without the high risk of it being intercepted by the wrong people," Cowboy said quietly from behind CJ, causing him to jump.

Whirling around CJ demanded, "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to get the gist of what I've been telling you," Briggs said from beside him.

"And long enough to be able to say that if you betray us and tell anyone what you've been told tonight, I won't hesitate to kill you," Cowboy added, staring coldly at CJ.

"Nobody's killing anyone unless it's under my orders," Briggs interceded, stepping between the two men. "Now, instead of standing here with you two and your pissing contest, let's go get the shit moved off of your helicopter Cowboy, we're ditching two of them tonight." She walked away leaving the two men alone.

When Cowboy and CJ finally joined her, Briggs was fielding questions from Ana and the others about the sudden change in plans.

"But what is the point of stopping now and abandoning helicopters?" Ana demanded.

"I have two hopes. One, if we're spotted airborne, they'll assume that we split up into two teams. They'll be forced to expend more manpower and possibly spread their search teams thin trying to determine which route we've taken. Two, if instead they find the birds here first, they'll come in and investigate. Maybe check to see if we did indeed split into teams, and had people stay behind here. If, and this is a big if, they decide to come in for a landing and check out the birds, they're going to be rigged to blow, take them down."

"That's a lot of hoping, any chance that it's actually going to work?" Michael asked.

"There's always a chance. Realistically, they'll also know that there's a good chance that we ditched them for just that reason. Either way, I'm fairly certain that they're going to be looking for us to move to the southeast, so any search teams coming after us will be going in that direction."

Kenneth stepped forward, "What makes you so certain of that?"

Smiling Briggs pulled a map from her uniform pocket. Squatting down she unfolded the map and laid it on the roof in front of her, shining a flashlight onto it. Those close enough saw the clearly marked sites throughout the southeast between Wisconsin and North Carolina. "What's all that?" Kenneth asked.

"This is one of the maps that we found along with the equipment on the Stallion. These sites," she gestured towards the map, "indicate possible locations to refuel."

"Then is that where we're heading?" asked Monica.

"No. We're heading west," Briggs stated confidently.

"West? Why, what's out there?" Michael said, stepping forward.

Simultaneously Steve uttered, "Who the hell put you in charge? I don't recall ever saying,  
'yes, please make all the decisions, drag our asses all over the countryside with people shooting at us and dead people trying to eat us.' Hell, we're worse off with you around then we were before you showed your faces at the mall!"

Looking at Michael, Briggs replied. "There may be a safehouse in Colorado where we can hide out for a little while. It's up in the mountains, where the closest neighbor is miles away. The house is essentially a fortress, if it hasn't been breached yet, we'll be safe there for awhile"  
"Well I say we go east," Steve declared. "We have a map showing us where fuel is," he gestured to Peter and Fran, "those two said the zombies move slower there so I think we stand a better chance there then searching for some mysterious secret house."

"You're forgetting something Steve," Roger said.

"What's that?"

"The east coast has a much higher population density, that means there are more of those things there. We fled Philadelphia because even though they were slower than us, the sheer number of those zombies overpowered the living," Roger said.

"Roger's got a point," Michael said.

"So there's your options people. We're taking the Stallion and one of the Blackhawks and heading west. If you choose not to, you can stay with the Blackhawks we ditch and do whatever you want with them," Briggs declared. Leaving the map where it lay, she rose to her feet and started walking through the group towards the Stallion, calling over her shoulder as she went, "If you decide to stay, keep in mind the weapons and supplies come with us."

In the end, all twenty-four of them flew out towards the west.


	27. Losses

They flew through what remained of the night uneventfully. As dawn neared, Briggs radioed Masters regarding the need for fuel. 

"I'm not at a critical status yet," he replied, "but we should probably make a grab and go before we move into more populated areas."

"Agreed. We'll be crossing over the Mississippi River momentarily, once we're into Missouri we'll see what we can find. Out."

Turning to CJ, who still sat beside her, she said, "I need you to get Cowboy up here with the maps."

Shaking his head and muttering, "Yes ma'am," under his breath, CJ did as he was bid.

Moments later Cowboy sat down in the seat previously occupied by CJ. "Your boyfriend seems to be a little bit upset that you asked him to give up his seat for me." The comment did nothing more than earn him a scathing look from Briggs. "Okay then, what exactly did you want me up here for Kenny?"

"We need an airfield, I want you to get an exact bearing on our location and find me one," she replied.

Cowboy went to work and moments later said, "I need you to head south, there should be a little piss ass town coming up with a small airfield, used mainly for crop dusting."

"Affirmative." Briggs reached for the radio, "Masters, follow my lead."

They flew in silence for a few minutes before the airfield came into view. "Not many planes left down there," Briggs commented.

"The planes aren't important, so long as there's fuel and it isn't overrun with those things," Cowboy replied.

"The lack of planes will be important if they drained what was left of the fuel," she countered.

"Leave it to you to look for the worst in things."

"Being prepared for the worst is what's kept me alive this long."

Cowboy couldn't argue with her logic, so he said nothing.

"Take the controls Cowboy, I want you to circle around the perimeter once, try and see if there's any company down there. I'm going to lead the ground team in, any sign of trouble, be ready to lift off. Radio Masters, tell him the plan. I want six of his people on the ground for fueling and support. Make sure he keeps at least one of the other pilots on board with him." Turning, Briggs made her way to the rear of the aircraft where the others sat amidst the supplies.

"What's going on Briggs?" Michael asked, having been unsuccessful in getting any information out of CJ.

"We're going in for a fuel run. Henry, I want you on the controls with Cowboy. CJ, Michael, Sanchez, Kenneth, Roger, Randall and Terry as soon as this bird touches down we need to be outside the door and fueling. Terry, think you can handle the pump?"

Terry nodded, "Yea, I think so."

"Terry you can't go out there!" Nicole shrieked. "Let someone else do it!"

Ignoring Nicole's outburst Briggs continued. "The rest of us are going to be on the lookout for any incoming unfriendlies. The first sign of serious trouble, we haul ass back to the birds." With that, she moved to where the weapons had been stowed, reaching for the semi-automatic Heckler und Koch rifle she had seized from the weapons cache at the mall, adding it to the pistol she was rarely seen without.

"Terry," Nicole whined again, clinging to his side.

"It'll be okay Nicole. We need to get fuel, and there's going to be plenty of us outside to hold off any of those things that might be out there," he told her. "Besides, if I'm fueling the helicopter up, I'll be closer to the door than anyone else. Trust me, if there's any trouble I'll be the first one back on board," he lied.

Although she was still unconvinced of his safety, Nicole didn't argue with him any further.

Briggs motioned for her team to come closer and began passing out weapons and communication links. "I want us all wired up so we're in constant contact. Obviously you know where the receiver goes," she said gesturing to the earpiece. "This," she held up an object that resembled a nylon dog color with Velcro closures instead of a buckle, "is the transmitter. It goes around your neck like so." She demonstrated by placing it around her own neck. Placing the earpiece in her ear she said, "If you have something to say, press here and hold it while you speak. These are on an open channel so you'll be able to speak to the whole group as well as the pilots on board the helicopters."

"I thought we were just taking positions around the helicopter, what do we need these for?" Roger inquired.

"I want to be prepared in case the worst happens and somebody gets separated," she replied.

"You seem to say things like that a lot," commented Fran.

Ignoring her, Briggs simply said, "Be ready," and walked to the door.

They felt the helicopter losing altitude as it slowly moved in for a landing. Henry joined them for a moment. "We don't see anything moving down there, but keep your guard up, they could be hiding, and they travel in packs." Reaching out he placed a hand on Kenneth's shoulder momentarily. "Luck, Brother."

As soon as they felt the helicopter set down, Briggs was out the door, rifle at the ready and moving into position on the far side of the aircraft. "Let's go, let's go," she yelled to the others, causing them to move quickly behind her, taking up positions of their own. Once outside they watched their fellow travelers leaping from the Blackhawk in a similar fashion.

Terry was amazed, thinking of what smooth sailing it was all being, once he'd figured out how to work the old-fashioned fuel pump that is. The damn thing was older than he was, he thought. So engrossed in what he was doing, Terry almost missed the small movement from a broke down old plane sitting beside an equally banged up looking hangar. Peering harder, he made out a human shape stepping from the plane. He reached for the collar on his neck, "Uh, Sergeant Briggs, guys, I think we've got some company over by the hangars."

The creature stepped fully from the airplane and suddenly sprinted towards the helicopters. Sanchez, who was closest, fired off a shot that caught the thing in the chest, momentarily slowing it. Randall dropped to her knee beside Sanchez, aiming a shot that caught the creature cleanly between the eyes. Rising to her feet again, Randall continued to watch the old hangar where more of the creatures began to emerge. "Shit we got trouble," she called out over the radio.

On the far side of the Blackhawk, shots were being fired too. Zombies began to appear from both the airfield's small tower and the trees surrounding the outer edges of the airfield. Glen fired the pistol in his hands completely panicked, running out of ammunition without ever actually having hit anything. He frantically clawed at his pockets for another clip.

The dead continued to emerge from the tree line, pressing forward towards the helicopters. "Shit Briggs, I don't know how much longer we're gonna be able to hold here," Masters called over the radio, watching events unfold from his seat on the Blackhawk.

Firing off three rounds first, Briggs called out, "Return to the helicopters. I say again, fall back to the helicopters."

The groups outside needed no further urging. Terry quickly pulled the nozzle from the Stallion's fuel tank, tossing it away from the helicopter and rushing for the door. Michael and Kenneth continued firing cover shots for Briggs and CJ who had been positioned on the far side of the helicopter. They fell back systematically, finally nearing the door. Terry and Roger were already on board, Briggs urged Michael, Kenneth and CJ to do the same. Sanchez and Randall were slowly backing towards the door, providing cover fire from the rear. Briggs remained by the door, covering their retreat.

The Blackhawk began to lift off, Glen and Cook still struggling to pull themselves inside. One of the creatures grabbed Glen's foot and he began kicking wildly to break free. The helicopter continued to rise, Glen clinging desperately to the doorway. Finally, the creature savagely bit into Glen's leg, the searing pain causing him to lose his grip on the door at last. He fell to the ground below, mercifully breaking his neck before a pack of the creatures swarmed and began dining from his corpse.

"Jesus Christ!" Randall hollered as she and Briggs turned to climb through the door of the Stallion, the last two remaining outside. Whirling from her position in the doorway, Briggs saw a creature biting down on the young woman's neck, pulling a chunk of flesh away in its mouth. Briggs swiftly raised her pistol and fired, the shot taking the creature through its right eye. "No," whimpered Randall, looking into Briggs' eyes, stepping towards the door with her arms outstretched, pleading.

Bracing herself in the doorway, Briggs grabbed the transmitter at her throat. "Take us up now, Cowboy." Taking aim once more, Briggs looked Randall in the eyes one last time before firing. The shot took her between the eyes as the rest of the zombies who'd been working on Glen's body converged on her.

Briggs stepped back and closed the door to the Stallion, wearily moving to sit beside CJ. He looked her in the eyes for a brief moment before pulling her into his arms for a quick hug. "You can kick my ass for that later," he said when he released her.

"Don't think I won't," she replied, then returned the embrace. Turning away from him then, she asked aloud, "Is everyone else okay?"

"How many did we lose?" asked Michael, sitting with his arm wrapped around Ana's shoulders.

"Two for sure. Randall and the old guy from the mall," Briggs told them.

"Oh no, not Glen," Ana said, shocked. She thought about the quiet, soft spoken man she'd known during their time at the mall together. He'd rarely complained about the situation they'd found themselves in, and he'd always done his utmost to help out. Looking at the faces of the others who'd lived all those weeks at the mall and in the cafeteria together she could read similar feelings on all their faces.

They were silent then, watching as Briggs began to pull the communications equipment off, stowing it and her rifle with the supplies once more. Finished with that she quickly moved to the front of the helicopter, momentarily touching CJ's shoulder as she passed by.

"So what's going to happen now?" Fran asked.

"I don't know," replied Michael. "CJ, Kenneth, you two have the best relationship with our military contingent, you know anything?"

"Hey asshole, I'm part of that fucking 'military contingent' so why the hell aren't you asking me?" demanded Sanchez, still smarting over the loss of Randall.

"No offenseintended man, I just didn't want to put you in a bad position with Briggs," Michael quickly said.

Sanchez narrowed his eyes at Michael. "Bullshit motherfucker. You don't think I'm in the loop, that I'm just some kind of fucking nobody peon that they don't tell shit to!" he declared, getting angrier. "I know things, I'm in the loop, hell I even fucking know that that Chica you all are following so mindlessly isn't even named Briggs."

"Sanchez!" Cowboy's voice suddenly barked out. "You say one more fucking word and I'll throw your ass off this aircraft. Understood?"

The rest of the passengers sat looking on in dumbfounded silence, all unsure of what to say. Sanchez looked chagrined over being caught speaking out of turn. Cowboy's anger was an almost palpable thing, seeming to emanate from him. Briggs moved to stand beside him, catching Sanchez's eye. The soldier looked at his feet. Briggs than looked at the rest of the passengers before speaking.

"When we reach our destination we'll clear the air about what just went down here. Until then, I need you all to keep your heads clear and to work together as a team. Especially if my calculations are off and we need to stop for more fuel before reaching our destination," Briggs said. She looked around the helicopter again then, almost as if she was daring them to speak. Finally she spoke to Cowboy. "Why don't you and Henry grab a little sleep, I'll take the controls for awhile." Turning on her heel, she returned to the pilot's seat once more.

Henry soon joined the others in the back, but the cabin remained silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts. A short time later CJ, unable to take the silence any longer,moved to the front of the helicopter, once more taking the co-pilot's seat.

"So do you want to tell me about it?" he asked.

"About what?"

"Was he telling the truth? That your name's not really Briggs."

"Yea, it's the truth. Kennedy Nixon Briggs does not exist. She's a construct," she said, unable to meet his eyes, grateful she could blame it on the need to concentrate on flying the helicopter.

CJ looked away, a pained expression crossing his face. "So is anything you told me true?"

"Most of it's all true, CJ. I borrowed a few background details like the uber political parents, but otherwise..." she paused. "The easiest way to live a lie CJ, and to keep from getting caughtdoing it, is forthe lieto be the truth, mostly."

"So that night, on the roof of the mall, after we left Gull Island..."

"It was all true, CJ. Well, everything except my being married to Cowboy."

"So you were never married?"

"Oh no, I was married, just not to Cowboy. He has been my best friend since basic though. Which makes it easier to pass that story off as fact. Plus he's the only person in the world besides yourself who knows what really went down."

"So who was it then?"

"I didn't ask you for details about your ex-wife," she countered.

"No you didn't, but I'm a big enough asshole to want to know about your ex-husband."

"There's no reason to be jealous CJ, it was a long time ago when I was young and dumb."

"Shit, how old are you? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?"

"I'll be thirty in two weeks. Not that it matters."

"You're still young, so don't give me that bullshit excuse."

She laughed then, shaking her head and smiling.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I'm just taking a step back and looking at this conversation from a whole different perspective." She grinned once more. "I just lost two men to fucking man-eating zombies, my cover was blown by a stupid fucker who's all bent out of shape that the woman he'd had picked out to get his prick wet with is zombie chow, and I'm sitting here debating my non-existant love life with you. Excuse me if it boggles my mind a little bit."

"So you don't think of me as part of your love life?" CJ suddenly asked, smiling as Briggs burst into laughter again.

"Jesus I'd kill for a beer right about now," she said at last.

"Because drinking and flying while being chased by zombies is nothing to concern yourself with," CJ kidded again, enjoying the sight of the smile that crossed her face.

"So you're not completely pissed off about the 'Briggs' thing?" she asked.

"That all depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not you tell me what your name really is."

She glanced at him briefly, becoming completely serious. Finally she gestured to him to lean closer. When he did, she leaned herself and whispered a name into his ear, then quickly sat up and returned her attention to the helicopter's controls.

"Nice to meet you.."

"Just call me Briggs for now CJ, please," she quickly interrupted.

"Okay, for now, it's just between us," he agreed.


	28. Gains

The helicopters continued their westward flight, the passengers on board still coping with the loss of two comrades. By late afternoon, Briggs had finally ceded control of the Stallion over to Cowboy, directing him on which course to maintain before herself moving to the rear of the craft. After making herself comfortable amidst the supplies, and using CJ's shoulder for a pillow she was finally ready to asleep. 

Thoughtfully watching her apparent slumber for a few moments, Kenneth turned to his brother. "So what's the real story brother? Who's Snow White over there working for, and where is she taking us?"

"I don't know anymore. She's definitely got connections in all the right places, but I don't know how or why. She could be taking us anywhere," Henry replied.

"CJ have you learned anything about where we're going?" Michael asked, turning towards the former security guard only to see that he too appeared to be asleep.

"I think you boys are forgetting a few things." Peter interrupted.

"How do you figure?" Kenneth asked.

"Well, for one thing, I doubt if our last stop for fuel was successful enough to allow us to reach our destination in Colorado or wherever the hell she may choose to drag us," Peter explained succinctly.

"Another stop could mean we lose more people," Michael murmured.

"Exactly," Peter said. "For another thing, how do we know that those things aren't going to be waiting for us at this unknown destination? For all we know they'll be crawling all over the place."

"You're saying you think this whole thing is some kind of big suicide mission, is that it," grumbled Kenneth.

"Not necessarily, I'm just saying that we need to start asking Briggs some questions instead of blindly following whatever she says," Peter explained.

"But it is a suicide mission," Nicole called out tremulously. "We're all just going to get picked off one at a time whenever we land this thing." As she spoke, Nicole's eyes widened with fear, as if she was watching exactly that fate playing out before her. She pulled Chips into a hug that was more reminiscent of a choke hold. The dog squirmed, trying to break free from her grasp until Terry intervened and forcibly removed Nicole's arms from around the animal's neck, murmuring soothing words to her all the while.

"Nicole baby, every day that we survive is a victory for us," Michael said, hoping to help Terry calm the frightened girl. "I know I said that we could lose more people if we stop again, but it's a risk that we may have to take over and over again if we're going to get out of this thing. Every day that we're alive is a gift, never forget that."

"Have any of us even bothered to ask her where we're going?" Ana asked, changing the subject and looking around the cabin of the helicopter at the other passengers. A faint murmur of denial filled the cabin in answer to her question.

Briggs voice broke through the sudden quiet that had so swiftly filled the helicopter. "Jesus people, how the fuck is a person supposed to get any sleep around here if y'all keep carrying on like that?" she drawled, sounding as southern as Cowboy normally did.

The rest of the travelers turned, almost as one, towards her. Kenneth was the first to speak. "So how long have you been listening?"

"Since I sat down. You people should really make sure that the object of your discussions is actually asleep before you start talking about her." She nudged CJ in the side with an elbow, "Isn't that right Sleeping Beauty?" she asked, grinning at him. He opened his eyes,shockregistering inthem that she'd know he was awake.

"It was nothing personal Sergeant," Ana said. "We just want to know what's going on, where we're going."

"And my saying everything would be explained once we reach our destination basically meant jack shit to you people is that it?" she asked. "Nevermind, I don't want to hear the excuses," she said waving her hand towards them when it appeared as though Michael and Peter were about to speak.

"In answer to your question, we're heading to a private estate in Colorado, the closest city is probably New Castle, in the vicinity of Glenwood Springs," Briggs told them.

"Who lives there?" Nicole asked curiously.

"Senator Richard Kelmsley and his trophy wife own the place, whether or not they're living there right now is another story."

"A Senator's house?" Michael asked. "You mean we're going to break into a Senator's house and hope it's safe?"

"We won't have to break in, I know all the security codes to enter, and as long as the gates are closed the place is a fucking fortress."

"How so?" Kenneth asked, intrigued.

"The main house and a guest house are located on a thirty acre piece of property completely enclosed by a ten foot tall brick privacy fence that's two foot wide and topped with concertina wire. Security cameras monitor every square inch of that fence 24/7 plus any breach of the fence sounds an alarm kinda reminiscent of old air raid sirens from World War II. The main entrance to the gate is usually juiced up with something like 10,000 volts of electricity so any of those walking corpses touches it they're gonna fry."

"What makes you think the power is still running?" inquired Peter.

"Entire property is powered by a private geothermal power plant built underneath the houses, lights will run for hundreds of years whether we're alive or not. The Senator likes his privacy so he wanted to make sure there was no way for the riff raff to get near his little palace even if the power elsewhere went down."

Kenneth narrowed his eyes at her, "And just how the fuck do you know all this?"

"Let's just say I used to be like family to them for awhile," Briggs replied stiffly, rising to her feet and walking towards the front of the helicopter.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kenneth asked, "We're not done talking to you yet."

"I'm going to go try to calculate how much further we're going to be able to fly before we need to fuel up again. Like homeboy over there said, our last fuel up wasn't too successful, there isn't a chance in hell we're going to make it to our destination on what we have in the fuel tank. Now then, I've answered your questions regarding our destination, so as far as I'm concerned this discussion is over."

Briggs booted Sanchez from the co-pilot's seat, sending the soldier into the rear with the rest of the passengers. He smiled broadly at them, "So what the hell got said back here that I missed huh? Musta been something pretty good to piss the Dragon Lady off." He laughed.

"What do you mean?" Fran asked him.

"Sarge is pissed, so one of you had to have said something to her," the soldier pressed, looking around at the group expectantly.

"She didn't look pissed to me," Terry said, confused.

"I guess you have to know the Sarge a little bit more to be able to tell her moods," Sanchez said, still smiling. "Me and the Sarge go way back, so I guess I can read her better than most anyone," he boasted.

"All we did was ask her where we were going," Ana said. "There's no reason for her to get upset over that."

"Ah, so that's what did it," Sanchez proclaimed, glancing to the front of the helicopter where Briggs and Cowboy sat. "She don't like anybody to question her,prefers blind obedience outta people."

"I think you're the one who's pissed at her," CJ said suddenly, a twinge of anger in his voice. "And I think you're just spouting off a lot of hot air about knowing how to 'read' her. Maybe you think you could do a better job leading us, is that it? Or is she right and you're just pissed off about that Randall chick?"

The smile disappeared from Sanchez's face and he all but sneered his reply. "Figures you'd try to defend your girlfriend, asshole. But just remember this, Briggs doesn't try to make friends with people unless she thinks she'll be able to use that friendship to her advantage later. You're just a fucking pawn to her."

"And maybe you're just jealous because she does talk to me even though we're all nothing but pawns to her," CJ replied quietly.

The rest passengers were silent for a short time following Sanchez's outburst, some finally breaking up into small groups to talk, others closing their eyes and either sleeping or doing an excellent imitation of sleep. For his part, Sanchez sat in silence glaring daggers at CJ. CJ took the high road, choosing to ignore the soldier by once again trying to sleep.

In the front of the helicopter, Briggs sat calculating how soon they were going to need to land for fuel. When she'd worked the math, repeatedly coming up with the same answer she radioed the Blackhawk. Marshall had been working the same calculations onboard the other helicopter and both concurred, they had maybe another four hours of flight time left.

"I think we'd better land for the night. Give the civilians a chance to rest, give us all a chance to get off this bird for awhile. We'll be able to better coordinate the refueling effort with the team on the Blackhawk too," Briggs said.

"Agreed. We should be approaching Kansas City soon, we'll try to find a rooftop there," Cowboy responded.

They continued to fly, entering the airspace over Kansas City. Cowboy called over the radio, "Masters, Marshall, you see any clear rooftops big enough to suit our landing needs?"

"That's a negative. This is the first city we've encountered with so many of those things swarming the rooftops," replied Marshall.

Cowboy and Briggs shared a look. "What do you think?" Briggs finally asked.

"Maybe they were drawn up to the top by people escaping by airlifts. Kansas City has regular Army plus National Guard posts in the vicinity, so it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. They may have been able to pull off a more successful search and rescue operation than Ft. Pastor did."

Briggs looked thoughtful. "Maybe," she said at last. "Or maybe they headed to the rooftops for a last stand. Figured they could barricade themselves there until help arrived."

"If that's the case then how did all the infected end up on the rooftops?" Cowboy asked.

Briggs looked him squarely in the face with an expression that suggested he was an idiot. "Maybe nobody told them how the infection spreads, and by the time they figured it out, it was too late."

Cowboy thought about the news broadcasts he'd seen right after the first outbreaks had occurred. He remembered reports of people being bitten, but nothing being said that that was how the infection was being spread. "Sonuvabitch your right. If they did bring infected people onto the roof with them it would have been paramount to signing their own death warrants. Those poor bastards never stood a chance."

Briggs nodded. "Like I said before, one of mankind's greatest traits, what separates us from the other mammals even, is also our biggest downfall."

"Kenny, you'd have to be some kind of fucking sociopath to see someone injured the way some of those people were and not want to try and help. Not if you didn't realize how the virus spread. Admit it, you couldn't leave someone behind could you? In a situation like that?"

"That's a loaded question Cowboy. You're assuming I'd say 'no, of course I'd try to help.' But I've known right from the start how this things spreads. My answer would be that if I saw someone injured with bite marks begging for help, I'd go with my instincts and shoot them between the eyes, it's the only help left to give them. At least then they wouldn't be wandering the Earth a soulless killing machine."

"So say that hypothetically speaking you didn't know the facts about the virus right from the start, that you were like all those other Joe Blows down there on the street. What then?"

"I guess I must be a sociopath, because I'd still have gone with Darwin's Law in that situation."

"Darwin's Law?"

"Yea, you know, survival of the fittest. Anyone with injuries from a bite would have been getting sicker and therefore slower as the infection progressed and spread throughout their bodies. They'd be a liability to me, so I'd leave them. Their sacrificewould help distract the zombies off my ass and buy me some time."

"That's a little heartless don't you think? he asked.

"So's creating the virus that caused this hell on earth to happen in the first place. I didn't see anybody stopping that asshole."

"I guess you have a point," Cowboy conceded. "But I still have a hard time believing that even you could be that cold."

"It's kind of a non-issue now, Cowboy, so can we just get down to business and find a fucking rooftop before I crash this helicopter just to shut you up."

"Touched a nerve didn't I?" Cowboy asked, earning him another glare from Briggs in reply. To his credit, he appeared regretful of ever having started the conversation in the first place. Marshall's voice coming over the radio brought the discussion to an abrupt end.

"Cowboy, Briggs," Marshall said. "Up ahead, one o'clock, rooftop appears vacant."

"I see it Marshall," Cowboy answered. "Let's circle around, check it over before we land."

The helicopters circled the building. "Damn, looks like we got some live ones down there," Marshall called out over the radio. "Or I guess I should say some dead ones...fuck it, you know what I mean."

"Yea Marsh, we get it, why don't you quit while you're ahead already," replied Cowboy.

Briggs climbed from her seat and disappeared into the rear of the craft, returning moments later with a rifle scope in her hand. She peered out the windshield of the helicopter towards the roof below.

"They're dead alright. Looks like there's only aboutfive of them down there, door appears to be barricaded shut pretty good," she mused. Turning towards Cowboy she said, "If you can hold this beast steady, I'll clear the roof, it oughta be secure enough for the night."

"It's still light out Kenny, we can look further you know, it's not like this is the only building in town. We might be able to dig up one that's already vacant," Cowboy reasoned.

"We'll just burn more fuel that way. Besides, they've already done a decent job of barricading the entrance to the roof for us, seems a shame to waste all their hard work when all we need is five kill shots to clean the place out."

"Sometimes I wonder about you Kenny," Cowboy said so softly that she barely heard him.

Her reply was just as quiet. "Me too, Charlie, me too."

She once again disappeared into the rear of the helicopter, presumably getting her rifle ready to clear the roof. In the meantime, Cowboy notified the crew of the Blackhawk of her plan. The aircrafts circled the building again.

"Cowboy, are you sure she only sawfive of those things down there," Masters radioed.

"That's what she said, why?"

"Look at that far corner, see the fire escape?"

"Yea, what about it?"

"There's movement down there."

"I see it, let's do a flyby, take a closer look."

"Looks like a flag waving. Is there something written on it?"

Briggs' voice suddenly broke in on the conversation, "Cowboy, I'm in position, so why am I looking at the side of the building instead of the roof?"

"Briggs, we see something waving off of the fire escape, can you get a clear visual," Masters asked.

"Well I'll be damned," she said.

"What is it Kenny?" Cowboy asked.

"It looks like a T-shirt...something's written on it...alive inside...14th floor," she finished.

"Should we investigate?"

"If they've held out alive in that building this long they can wait until we secure the rooftop."

"Affirmative Briggs, it's your call," Masters replied.

The Stallion came up and hovered just abreast of the rooftop, Briggs was positioned in the doorway, Heckler und Koch rifle at the ready. Within a matter of moments she'd let five rounds fly, each one hitting their marks as the zombies were drawn to the sound of the helicopter and the scent of the living flesh on board.

"Take us down Cowboy. Masters, have Evans, Jones and Walker ready to join me on the rooftop, we're going down the fire escape to investigate that flag. If we run into any problems down there, be ready to dust off, with or without us."

Briggs' team began their descent down the fire escape. The others had wanted to start setting up camp for the night, removing the corpses from the roof, but Briggs had shot down the idea. She preferred to wait and see what developed below in case another hasty exit was needed.

Once they had climbed down the ladder to where the steps of the fire escape began, Briggs' team began leap frogging their way down the remaining five flights to the fourteenth floor. As they passed the windows to each apartment, each one seemed eerily abandoned. Swallowing hard, Walker nervously asked, "Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, what are the chances that whoever put that flag up there hasn't already turned into one of those things? Or maybe you already shot them up there on the roof,  
Sarge."

"And maybe this fire escape is about to collapse and send us crashing to the pavement, Walker. What the fuck is your problem?" Cook goaded him.

"I just don't want to die," the young Private answered.

Rolling her eyes, Briggs turned to the two soldiers behind her. "Cook, shut the fuck up. Walker, nobody here wants to die, least of all me, but we've got a job to do, and all your gabbing is just distracting us from the mission," she bit out.

With one last look at the two men, almost daring them to say something more, Briggs turned and continued down the final two flights to their destination. Taking up positions around the window, Jones tried to peer through the window for a look inside, but the curtains obscured his view. Shrugging, he shouldered his rifle and tried to pry the window open. In a flash the curtains whipped open and a tall blonde man wearing a tattered uniform appeared before them, brandishing a baseball bat liberally stained brown with dried blood.

Jones leapt back from the window, whipping his rifle from his shoulder and taking aim, all in one smooth motion. The face in the window went white in shock, the baseball bat sliding from his hands uselessly. Briggs called out to the others to lower their weapons before reaching for the transmitter around her neck. "Hey Cowboy, we got some live ones down here. We'll get a tally on how many there are and in what kind of condition and report back. Get the passengers and equipment set up for the night."

As she spoke, the man in the apartment moved to open the window. "Oh my God, I was beginning to think that we were the only ones still alive in the city," he stammered. Upon closer inspection, it was possible to determine that he was clad in the remnants of an EMT uniform. He began to gesture them inside the apartment.

"Jones, Cook, stay on the fire escape," Briggs said, looking down at the street beneath them at a herd of snarling zombies forming below, arms outstretched towards the ladder just out of their reach. "Keep an eye on those things, I don't think they'll be able to reach the ladder, but we're not going to take any chances," she said before climbing through the window.

The interior of the apartment was dark and gloomy, the stale scent of sweat filling the air around them. There was a steady pounding coming from where they assumed the door was, judging by the furniture that had been piled up there as a makeshift barricade. The three of them stood in front of the window, the EMT standing before them, all four waiting for somebody to speak.

"How many more of you are there?" the EMT asked.

"We've got twenty-two people total in our group," Briggs replied. "How about you?"

"There's four of us here. Myself, I'm Tom, my sister Chrissy, and her two boys Dennis and Zachary."

"How old are the kids?" Cook asked, amazed that they'd been able to survive.

"Zachary the oldest is fourteen, Dennis is eleven."

"How long have you been holed up here?" Briggs asked, looking around speculatively.

"Almost seven weeks now. When the worst of the infection hit I was on duty. My partner bought it when we went out on a call about ten blocks from here, I just barely got away on foot. I'd called my sister earlier that day and told her not to leave the apartment or let the boys out for any reason. I worked my way through the neighborhood and here to the apartment and that's where we've been ever since."

A woman's voice called out from behind a closed door, "Tommy is everything okay?"

"It's fine Chrissy, the Army's here to rescue us," he said, his voice almost jubilant sounding.

Briggs fought the urge to roll her eyes again at the tone of his voice. "If you're coming with us you need to gather up what you need, a few clothes, any food or water you might have and bring it up to the roof," she told them. "We fly out of here at first light."

"Wait, why can't we leave now?" Chrissy asked, walking out from what looked like one of the apartment's bedrooms followed by her sons. "How far away is your base?"

Briggs looked at the petite blonde woman and her two sons for a moment before replying. "We're waiting until morning because we're low on fuel. Since those things have pretty much overrun almost every airfield in the country it's too risky to try fueling up at night when we can't see them approaching, or how many of them are already on the ground. We don't have a base, we're just trying to reach a safe haven to hole up until the worst of this blows over."

"If that's the case, wouldn't be safer staying here in the apartment tonight?" Tom asked.

"No. If they somehow make it onto that fire escape we'd be sitting ducks inside this apartment. I want to be close to the birds just in case we need to make a hasty exit," Briggs told him.

"If you put it that way, I suppose your right," Tom admitted. "How soon should we be packed to go?"

"As quick as you can. I'll leave a few of my men to stand guard while you pack and to escort you to the roof, but make it fast." Looking once more at the two boys and their mothershe stressed, "Remember our room is limited, only bring what is absolutely essential."


	29. The Arrival

The rest of the night had passed uneventfully on top of the apartment building. The two kids Zachary and Dennis had taken to Chips immediately, leaving Nicole feeling a little bit jealous and unhappy about having to share the dog. As he'ddone before by becoming a companion to Nicole, the dog was more than proving his worth comforting the youngsurvivors who'd witnessed far more tragedy in their young lives than they ever should have. As a result, the new additions had blended smoothly into the group. At first light, they'd been packed up and airborne, ready to seek out another airfield for fuel. 

An hour after departing, they struck gold. The airfield was tiny, a single hangar alongside some fuel pumps sat at one side of a landing strip, and that was it. Chain link fencing was situated around the entire perimeter of the airfield. The only zombies in view staggered along the outside of the fence, almost as if they'd been following the steady beat of the helicopters' rotors overhead.

As with their last refueling attempt, two heavily armed teams departed from the helicopters to provide support and man the fuel pumps. This time everything went smoothly, like clockwork. The look-outs were primarily concerned with watching the build-up of zombies outside of the fence, staggering along looking for weak spots that could be breached. The long weeks spent in the hot summer sun was beginning to take its toll on the creatures' bodies, exactly as Briggs had predicted. Their speed wasn't nearly as tremendous as in the previous weeks, and their reflexes and coordination showed severe deterioration as well. The helicopters were both nearly fueled to capacity before the first of the zombies actually made it over the fence. As others followed it the look-outs easily picking them off one at a time until the helicopters were ready to lift off.

For the first time since they'd left the mall that first time, traveling to the mysterious research facility, many of the passengers felt a sense of hope. At least on the Stallion anyway, the general mood on board the Blackhawk was one of intense irritation, Steve's mouth having begun to grate on everyone's nerves, bringing tensions to an all new high.

For about the tenth time since they'd fueled up that morning Steve was once again ranting. "All I'm saying people, is that this half assed plan your frigid bitch of a leader has to fly across the country to some mythical place is Colorado is going to get us all killed," he complained to Jones and Evans.

"You got any better ideas?" Jones asked impatiently.

"Yea, let's turn this thing around and go back where we came from. At least there we knew we were safe," he said.

Evans glared at him. "Are you really this stupid?" he demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, we're hell and gone away from that fucking shopping mall. Your plan is suicide. Briggs may be a bitch sometimes, but she hasn't lead us wrong yet."

"Right, tell that to the two people who got eaten the last time she decided to stop the family cruisers here for gas," Steve said sarcastically.

"Steve just shut up already," Monica gritted out between her teeth. "You've been talking shit, saying the same thing over and over for the last two days now. Nobody is changing their minds so just let it drop."

"Who the hell asked you Monica?" Steve griped, somewhat annoyed that even his the person he viewed as his own little plaything was siding against him.

Frustrated, Monica did what she could to move away from Steve. The conditions on the Blackhawk, being what they were, could only be described as cramped at best, even after the loss of Glen. Thinking about the old man brought a twinge of regret and sadness over her. She couldn't help but regret how abominably she'd treated him during all those many weeks together. Her sadness stemmed from her guilty knowledge that even had he survived during that last refueling she probably would have continued to be cruel to him. It had never been personal, he just never took up and defended himself.

Her new position put her next to Private Walker. The young soldier usually looked terrified, even in the safety of the helicopter, she thought. But today, even that was preferable to Steve in one of his moods. Most of his problem had to do with the alcohol withdrawal. Briggs had outright refused to give up any of their supply space to bring his booze along from the mall. He'd been able to at least sneak some alcohol along when they'd gone to that creepy research lab, it'd kept him almost bearable during the weeks they'd spent there. This time though, Briggs had carefully checked over the supplies for any contraband, removing anything deemed not absolutely essential, and leaving it behind. Now, Steve was determined to make them all suffer for it.

Walker leaned close to her ear and said quietly, "Don't take this the wrong way, but your boyfriend's a real asshole."

Eyes wide, Monica quickly turned to him and replied stiffly, "Yea, Steve's a total asshole, but he is NOT my boyfriend."

Walker looked sheepish as he replied, silently berating himself for jumping to conclusions. "Oh, sorry. I guess I just assumed that since you two were, ah, what I mean to say is..." he trailed off, blushing a bright shade of red that brought a smile to Monica's face.

"You mean because you heard us fucking the other night, is that it?" she asked pointedly. When his face once again went up in flames she smiled broadly.

This time he stammered his reply, "Yea, I uh, guess, um, that, uh, that was pretty much it."

Monica finally decided to take some pity on him. "Walker, it's okay. Everyone and their brother knows exactly what kind of a relationship it is that Steve and I have."

"Well, not exactly everyone," Walker said, once again embarrassed. Forcing himself to continue, he added, "I guess I just sort of figured you two had something serious going on like that girl Nicole has with Terry."

"Not hardly. Those two have a serious case of teenage puppy love, with no parents to come between them. Me and Steve, now that is strictly sex, no strings attached," she replied.

"I guess I just always kind of figured that girls needed some kind of emotional attachment to sleep with a guy," he confided, then mentally kicked himself for doing so. He was amazed by the very nature of this conversation, even more so that he was having it with a woman like Monica. Women like her never paid him any attention, he was too shy and introverted to attract them.

"No way Walker. Maybe there are some girls out there who need something like that, but I'm definitely not one of them," she said, smirking. The expression that crossed over his face caused her to laugh out loud, briefly drawing the attention of the others on the helicopter.

Embarrassed once more, Walker tried to change the subject. "So what did you do before all this happened?"

"Well, I did a lot of things I guess," she answered thoughtfully. "I tried cosmetology school for a while, but that didn't work out. After that I was a receptionist, a waitress, a cashier, and then just before all this happened I started exotic dancing."

"Really?" Walker yelped. His wide eyes and red face caused her to once more break into a loud peal of laughter.

"Yes really, I am a cosmetology school dropout," she joked, glancing up and seeing that her laughter had drawn the attention of the others. "What's your problems?" she lashed out belligerently at them.

"Not a thing," replied Cook, smiling. He and Evans had both been entertainedby the look of disgruntlement coming over Steve's face. It was starting to look like that asshole had lost his girl to the young Private Walker. Glancing once more at Evans, he saw he wasn't alone in his thinking on that end. Smiling he settled himself back more comfortably and closed his eyes, hoping to pass some of the time by sleeping.

Late in the afternoon, a huge estate came into view, looking exactly as Briggs had described it to the passengers of the Stallion. As they drew closer to their destination, details began coming into view such as the human figures staggering along the outside of the wall.

"Sonuvabitch, those things are all over that wall," Cowboy commented.

"Yea, but the gate's closed, and there doesn't appear to be any activity on the grounds of the estate. I think we'll be okay," Briggs told him.

"What's that up on the roof of the main house?" Cowboy asked suddenly.

"Looks like people, live ones judging from their movements," Briggs replied, frustrated. "This can only mean that somehow the house has been compromised."

"So what's plan B?" Cowboy asked.

"Get on the horn to the Blackhawk. I want Marshall, Steele, Jones and Evans ready to fast rope onto the roof. Then I want you to turn the controls over to Henry, 'cause you me and Sanchez will be joining them," Briggs told him.

"Kenny, you're insane. We don't know how many of those things could be in that house right now. This could be suicide."

"Wrong. There's three people on the roof and like I said, their movements indicate to me that they're alive. That means they can give us some information on the numbers. Judging from the body shapes, I'd say we got two females and a male down there." She looked him in the eyes, "I'd be willing to be my life that one of those women is Caroline Kelmsley. You know as well as I do that for a trophy wife, she's damn smart and she's got one helluva survival instinct. With that in mind, the other woman is probably Helga Strauss, her head housekeeper and best friend. Caroline would never leave her behind."

"Very insightful Kenny, but that still doesn't mean we're prepared to go up against whatever is in that house," Cowboy insisted. "What if one of those people on the roof is infected?"

Ignoring him, Briggs instead continued with her analysis. "It's summer time, the Senator rarely uses this place except during the winter for ski season. The only exception to that rule is when he feels the need to disappear under the media radar for a few days. That being the case, the only full time staff here year round is the grounds keeper and his wife who looks after the houses in the off season. There's also a full time groom kept in residence down at the stable. That would be only three people here prior to the Senator's arrival. The Senator always travels with four bodyguards, obviously his paranoia showing. He also would have his chauffeur, of course his wife, and finally Helga. When all is said and done, the three full time staff combined with the Senator and his entourage amounts to eleven people. If only three of them are out there on the roof, I'd say there's a maximum of eight zombies for us to deal with in that house. We can handle that."

"I wish I could feel that confident about it Kenny," Cowboy told her.

Inwardly Briggs wished that she really was as confident about the whole situation as she tried to appear. But the truth was, they were beginning to run out of options, and it was time to make a stand. "Just do what I ask, please Chris."

Meeting her eyes once more, he nodded. Then, as Briggs began making her way to the rear to prepare the weapons and equipment, he reached for the radio to notify the Blackhawk of her plans. Shortly, everything was ready, and the soldiers from both helicopters quickly descended to the roof. With weapons at the ready, they proceeded towards the threesome of survivors who wisely stood their ground while awaiting them.

"Oh thank the good Lord we are saved!" the lone male cried out ecstatically, a slight Hispanic accent to his words. Briggs and Cowboy both recognized him as Felix Delgado, the long time head groom for the estate's stable. It was then that the trio began to move slowly towards the soldiers, until the icy coolness of Briggs' voice brought them to a halt.

"Hold it, don't step any closer or we will open fire," she said. "Has anyone in your group been bit?"

"No, no we're all fine," the groom stammered. "Those who were bit, we left them below," he added, trying bravely to smile as he put himself in between the soldiers and the two women who accompanied him.

"Oh my God, Kenny, is that you?" one of the women suddenly called out, stepping forward into full view. She was an elegant, older woman, clad in expensive yet casual linen pants with a matching sleeveless top. The three days a week she spent in the gym, combined with an excellent plastic surgeon and stylist, kept her from looking anything close to her true age.

"Yea Caroline, it's me," Briggs replied, still holding her rifle at the ready.

"Well put that goddamn gun down already then," the woman Briggs called Caroline demanded.

"You haven't changed a bit Caroline," Briggs said, lowering her weapon. "Are you sure none of you has been bit?"

"Yes, we're sure. We saw first hand what happens when somebody gets bit by one of those things," Caroline replied distastefully.

Nodding, Briggs strode closer to where the trio awaited them, shouldering her rifle as she did. "So what the hell happened here?"

Sighing, Caroline took a seat on the roof, motioning to the others to join her. "It's a long story Kenny, you may as well make yourselves comfortable," she suggested. When the soldiers showed no sign of doing so, she began her tale.

"We managed to break out of the city just under two weeks ago. Richard's fanatical insistence on the most top level of all securities is probably the only thing that kept us alive this long at the townhouse. We roughed it through the worst of this thing there, those things surrounding the house in droves," she said, a distant look in her eyes. "There must have been other groups holed up in the city somewhere, sporadically we'd hear gunfire echoing. One day it was really bad, the creatures all started moving away from the house towards the sound. Richard assumed that it meant the creatures had broken through someone's defenses somewhere, was afraid they'd come for us next. He insisted we make a run for it, head here to the estate. Somewhere along the way one of the bodyguards was bit, he didn't turn until after we'd arrived and brought him into the house. But it still took us awhile to catch on that it was the bites that caused the sickness to spread."

"How did you get here, ma'am?" Jones asked.

"Humvees. My husband was fanatical, like I said. Those things probably have better armament on them then half of the ones in service in Iraq," she said smoothly. "Even the windows are bulletproof and the undercarriage was designed to resist bomb damage. Or at least that's what Richard liked to brag to everyone."

"Finish your story," Briggs interrupted. "What happened when you left the townhouse?"

Once again getting a far off look to her eyes, as if watching the events unfold all over again, Caroline continued her story once more. "We fled Denver like I said. We drove as fast as we could to try and keep those things from swarming us, but it wasn't easy. The streets looked like every picture of every war zone I've ever seen. There were abandoned, wrecked, and burned out vehicles everywhere, just filling up the streets. At some point somebody must have tried erecting barricades to slow those things down, but they almost trapped us instead. We just barely squeezed through some places, but once we reached the highways things improved. The first real trouble started when we had to stop for gas."

"Don't tell me," Sanchez started, "You found a perfect, working full service gas station, but they wouldn't take your gold card." The other occupants of the roof glared at him until at last he looked down at his feet, ashamed at his own attempts at humor.

Shaking her head, Caroline went on as if Sanchez had never spoken. "We found a fuel tanker truck abandoned at a roadside rest area. Now, Richard refused to let us out of the vehicles, so I can only speculate about what happened. Richard, Helga, myself, and Edward our chauffeur occupied the first humvee, our bodyguards were in the second. Three of them got out to get the fuel and to fill up the vehicles and I can only guess that that is when Jonathan had to have been bit," she mused.

"There had been a few gunshots fired, no more than five at the most, but then, the guys had us fueled up and ready to go. As far as the rest of us knew, everything had occurred without a problem. We had enough fuel to make it the rest of the way to the estate and it seemed like we were home free. We drove through the night and finally made it here late the next morning, just before noon I guess. It was then that Jonathan started showing signs that something was wrong, we just didn't know how wrong. He was very pale, his skin was clammy, and the veins seemed to be standing out all over his body. Plus he was tired, so very tired, but then, so were the rest of us, we didn't think it was anything more than the stress of our journey. By that evening, he started losing consciousness, moaning in pain. At last we found the bite on his arm, hidden beneath his clothing, festering. It looked like a seriously infected wound. Kevin, one of the other bodyguards, injected him with penicillin, we made him as comfortable as we could, and after that there was nothing to do but wait. The next morning he was practically comatose, still moaning occasionally,  
but his vital signs kept getting worse. We dosed him one last time with penicillin and he seemed to rest quiet for awhile so we left him alone."

She paused once more, looking at Briggs and for the first time noticing the man who stood next to her. "Charlie," she said, smiling at Cowboy. "I can't say I'm all that surprised to see you're still glued to Kenny's side, some things never change."

Glancing quickly at Briggs, Cowboy said uncomfortably, "Later, Caroline. Why don't we here the rest of the story so we know what we're dealing with when we move downstairs to clear the place out."

Sighing first, she finally did just that. "Catalina, the maid we keep on staff full time here, she went up to check on Jonathan right after lunch. It was right about the time that he must have turned I guess. He...he tore her into pieces," Caroline paused again, swallowing hard at the memory. "When Thomas, her husband, heard her screams he just took off running to help her, Kevin followed him. By the time they reached the room it was too late, but Thomas went to Catalina's side anyway, determined that he could help her. Kevin shot Jonathan when he lunged at Thomas. It would probably have ended then, but what was left of Catalina came back and bit her husband's arm. Kevin shot her as well, then he helped Thomas out of the room. If we'd realized then that it was the bites that caused the disease to be transmitted I have no doubt that Kevin would have shot Thomas right then and there, putting an end to it all. But we were too naive to put two and two together and figure it out, and now, there's just the three of us left."

"What about the Senator?" Briggs asked. "I find it hard to believe that he didn't figure things out sooner, paranoid bastard that he was."

"I don't know. After Thomas turned and came after us, Richard barricaded himself into his study. You know what that room's like Kenny."

"Yea, the Ft. Knox of home security. Was he bit?"

"I told you, I don't know. We were all running in panic, trying to find a safe place to hide. The three of us finally decided the roof would be the safest place for us. We'd be able to flag down any aircraft that passed over, or at least that's what we'd hoped. With you here I guess our plan worked out."

"What about food and water?" Briggs asked, momentarily ignoring Caroline's last comment.

"Obviously in the heat of the moment we didn't think that far ahead. Fortunately, Felix had a canteen of water, but even rationing that as best we could, we ran out two days ago."

"So how many of those things are left downstairs?" Jones asked.

"A maximum of six if you include the Senator," Felix called out, once more finding his voice.

"Okay then, stay here until we give you the all clear," Briggs said, pushing past them towards the entrance to the attic.

"Wait, Kenny, you can't go down there," Caroline called out, fear in her voice. "Those things down there will tear you to pieces."

"Caroline we can take care of ourselves," Briggs said, pausing as she started climbing through the busted out attic vent. "And you should know that we didn't come across you by accident. Riley directed me here." With that, she disappeared into the attic, followed closely by her team, none of them hearing Caroline's reaction to her words.

"Riley," she whispered. "Oh Helga, my son is alive!" she cried out, turning to embrace the housekeeper.


	30. A Truth Revealed

Entering the attic, the insertion team quickly located the trap door style entrance. It was one of them with the built in ladder that folded down as soon as the door was lowered. 

"Shit Briggs, we all try to make it down those steps and those things are down there, they'll tear our asses apart before we know what's happening," Sanchez stated.

"He's got a point, Kenny," Cowboy agreed.

Looking thoughtful she asked, "Do you remember where this trapdoor opens to?"

Cowboy looked confused for a second. "Third floor hallway, where only guest rooms were at I think. I remember when we snuck up there as kids, trying to figure out how to get up into the attic. We never could figure out why such a big fancy house like this had such an old fashioned, unfinished attic. We always thought it woulda made more sense to have the stairwell come all the way up here and this be a big oversized kids playroom."

"Yea, I know. I'm talking about the hallway itself. Wasn't there a big picture window on the opposite end of the hall from where the stairwell was situated?"

"You've been here more often than me, don't you remember?" he asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"No, I usually kept to the lower levels and the guest house the last few time I was here. It was one of the Senator's foibles."

"So what are you planning then?"

"If I'm right about the windows, I can rappel down from the roof, set myself up outside the window and provide cover fire. I think the trapdoor opens up somewhere between the window and the stairwell, it's not in one of the bedrooms or anything," she replied, pulling her rucksack from her pack and removing equipment.

Lifting an eyebrow at her, Marshall asked, "You always bring rappelling gear on a routine house search?"

"There isn't anything routine about this Marsh. I believe in being prepared for anything," she said, slipping a harness and rigging from her pack.

"I was wondering why you'd bothered with that rucksack," Cowboy said, stepping forward to assist her. The two returned to the roof together, quickly anchoring the rope to one of the chimneys that graced the roof of the house.

"Kenny, Charlie, what's going on?" Caroline called out, having watched the two of them re-emerge from the vent and move across the roof.

"No time Caroline, we've got work to do," Cowboy called out.

Turning to Cowboy, Briggs told him, "Wait until I radio the all clear before you start heading down."

"You got it Kenny. Just do me a favor and watch your ass down there," he told her.

"Yea, you too. I'll see you inside." She moved to the edge and began her descent. Cowboy watched for a moment, until her head disappeared from sight, and then hurried to rejoin the others.

Briggs brought herself level with the third floor window, situated exactly where she'd remembered it. Bracing her feet against the frame for support, she pulled her HK Model 23 into a ready position. Peering inside, she saw the hallway was clear at first glance, then a figure staggered into view. It was clad in a shredded business suit favored among the personal bodyguards of politicians as well as the secret service. Clearly this was one of the Senator's four bodyguards, she surmised. On its left side she could see that great chunks of flesh had been jaggedly torn from its leg, exposing the bone in several spots when the shredded pant leg parted. The staggering gait was due to its left foot, which flopped uselessly to one side of its leg, dangling off of a few unsevered sinews. Briggs was amazed that the thing could walk at all. As it turned to face her, Briggs' stomach clenched as she saw the entire right side of his face had been eaten away too.

"Cowboy, we've got one unfriendly in the hallway. I'm taking him down," she reported.

"Roger that, let me know when the hallway is secure," Cowboy's voice called over her ear piece.

"Affirm...Shit!" Another zombie lurched into view as Briggs spoke, standing directly before the window in front of her. She recognized Thomas the grounds keeper, or what was left of him anyway. As if sensing her presence he turned and lunged towards her, his arms breaking through the glass of the window just as Briggs fired off a single shot. He continued his forward momentum out the window, Briggs just barely managing to move herself out of the way as he fell to the ground below.

Cowboy's voice came calling over the radio, getting louder and more insistent. "Kenny. What's going on down there? Kenny! Dammit Kenny answer me!"

She returned to her position outside the window, the other zombie staggering towards her now, drawn by the sound of breaking glass and gunfire. Once more she pulled up her weapon, its laser aim shining just below the thing's left eye. She fired off a second shot, bringing it down as well before answering Cowboy's calls. "The hallway is secure, bring the rest of the team down."

"Jesus you crazy bitch," he laughed, "don't ever do that to me again"

In moments, the seven-man insertion team was beginning their quick search of the third floor. Moving in teams of twos and three, they swiftly checked all the rooms, making sure they were clear of threat before gathering at the stairs.

As they made their way down to the second floor, Sanchez grumbled, "What the hell do rich folks need huge ass houses like this for anyway?"

"To make seeking out zombies holed up inside them all the more fun for guys like us," quipped Marshall.

"Shut the fuck up guys," Briggs demanded. "Steele, take Jones and Evans and clear the rooms down that way," she directed. "Marsh, Sanchez since you two have so much to say to each other, head on down that way and clear those rooms. Cowboy and me got the watch on the stairs."

Sanchez continued to grumble under his breath as he moved down the corridor alongside Marshall. Nearing the end of the hall, the two men paused at the sound of faint pounding noise emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

"Here we go Sanchez, you ready for this?" Marshall asked.

"No. How you want to do this?"

"You open up the door, I'll take it down when it comes out."

"Oh hell no! There ain't no goddamn way on God's green earth that I'm gonna be the one to open that door. That thing will bite all over me before you hit it. You can just kiss my ass. I'm the better shot, so I'll be the shooter, you open the door," Sanchez declared.

"Is there a problem here boys?" Steele's voice sounded from behind them, causing them both to jump, swinging around with their outstretched weapons pointed towards her.

"Steele you scared the shit outta me," Sanchez exclaimed.

"No kidding," she replied sarcastically. Gesturing towards the thumping noise coming from the closed door she asked, "So what's the problem here gentlemen? Why haven't you gotten that room secured yet?"

"Because Sanchez here isn't man enough to open the door for us," chided Marshall.

"What about you Marshall? I don't see you rushing to do it either," was Sanchez's belligerent reply.

Rolling her eyes, much like Briggs usually did, Steele said, "What a couple of fucking pussies. Jones, Evans, watch my back, let's show these guys how to clear a room."

Stepping past the two soldiers, Steele's trio took up positions in front of the closed door. Reaching out carefully, Steele tried the doorknob, discovering it was locked. Sighing she stepped back. Raising her right leg she kicked with all her might causing the door to splinter around the locking mechanism, allowing it to swing free. As her foot touched the floor she quickly dove out of the way a mere split second before the zombie came bursting into view. Evans and Jones both opened fire, turning the creature into a pile of bloody pulp.

Snarls sounded from the direction of the stairs, footsteps pounding up from below. Another zombie drawn to the sound of the gunfire and the scent of live human flesh.

"Sweep the room, make sure it's clear," Steele called over her shoulder to Sanchez and Marshall as she dashed towards the stairs to assist Briggs and Cowboy, the rest of her team following hard on her heels.

They reached the stairwell landing just as the zombie came into view. He wore a bloodied chauffeur's uniform and they were momentarily amazed he was standing at all. He'd been almost completely gutted, his stomach cavity torn wide open, even his ribs were visible in places. Most of his organs were gone, the remnants of his intestines trailing out onto the steps below him. Cowboy fired off a single round , blowing the top of the thing's head clean off. It's body tumbled backwards from the momentum of the shot, harmlessly rolling down the steps and coming to rest on the first floor.

Once more the seven of them gathered together. "Okay, if Felix's information was correct we have four down and only two left to go," Briggs stated. "There are three main corridors below. One branches off towards the family dining room, kitchen and garage areas. Just to the rear of the kitchen are two doors, the one on the left leads into the garage, the right one opens up to the stairwell for the old servants quarters. Steele, you'll take your team and do the sweep there. The second corridor leads to the formal dining room, the library, and the ballroom, Sanchez, Jones, that's all yours."

"What about you two?" Sanchez asked, gesturing towards Briggs and Cowboy.

"We've got the third corridor, the Senator's personal gym, the conservatory, and the study."

With their duties assigned, they proceeded to finish the last leg of their sweep. Sanchez and Marshall were relieved to discover their corridor was completely devoid of life. Death too for that matter. Everything was pristine and untouched wherever they looked in this monstrosity of a house. After completing their sweep, Sanchez collapsed into one of the dining room chairs.

"What the hell are you doing man?" Marshall called out to him from across the room.

"The area is secure and I'm not moving my happy ass until I hear the others radio back the same."

Marshall began to argue with him, then gave up. He too pulled up a chair, situating himself in it with his rifle in ready reach just in case one of those things appeared. The two men sat together in silence, waiting.

Meanwhile, Steele's team worked their way through the family dining room, entering into the kitchen with no sign of trouble. After clearing the kitchen, they approached to two doors to the back Briggs had told them about.

"Garage or servants' quarters first guys?" Steele asked her companions.

"Garage," Evans said.

"Servants' quarters," Jones called out at the same time.

"Shit, sorry Evans, my vote's for the servants' quarters too, so let's get this done," Steele told them.

Moving forward slowly, they each listened carefully for any sounds of movement. All seemed quiet. Evans was the first to reach the two doors. Reaching out, he grasped first the doorknob to the garage door, noting that it was locked. Satisfied, he reached for the knob of the other door. Twisting it slowly, he began to pull it open. A body suddenly hurtled into it from the other side, half opening it before Evans managed to get it under control again. The soldier braced his right hand against the door frame as he threw the rest of his body weight against the door, trying to close it once more. He almost had it closed when the creature lunged forward with a snarl, biting hard into Evans' forearm. The surging pain from the bite gave him just the kick of adrenaline he needed to finally slam the door shut once more.

"Sonuvabitch! That was close man," Jones said, having missed the zombie's bite. The creature in question continued to pound on the door before them.

"Yea, let's do it right this time," Evans muttered, keeping the bite on his arm concealed from the others. "I'll open the door fast, you and Steele bring the motherfucker down."

They took up positions in front of the door once more. This time, Evans stood with his back to the door. Grasping the knob with his left hand he said, "On three. One...two...three!"

The door whipped open and the zombie came lunging towards Steele and Jones. The duo opened fire as Evans crouched behind the now wide open door. The impact of the bullets pushed the beast back into the stairwell where it fell for the final time.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Evans yelled from his position. The gunfire came to a sudden halt. Evans stood, brushing splintered fragments from the door from his shoulders. The other two soldiers walked over to join him by the doorway, looking down at the corpse now sprawled across the steps. Turning towards his partners, Evans said, "Why don't you two go secure the garage, I'll check out the rest of the servants' quarters."

"Evans, are you sure?" Steele asked, puzzled. "Don't you think we should stick together?"

"Nah, it'll be cool. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be empty up there, if there was more they probably would have come down with this one," Evans answered, unable to meet her eyes.

"If you're sure," Steele hesitated once more.

"Go get the garage cleared, the sooner it's done, the sooner we can join up with the others and bring the civilians in." With a good deal of effort he managed to meet her eyes this time, a small smile touching his lips briefly.

Steele gave him a long questioning look before finally assenting. "Come on Jones, let's get moving."

Evans watched for a moment as they entered the garage before turning to make his own way up the stairs. Stepping around the corpse, he quickly made his way up the steps and into the small hallway. Five closed doors were spread out down the hallway. Opening the first one to his right, he was met with the stench of rotting flesh. Two corpses occupied the room, one male the other female, each with a single shot to the head. Presumably these were the first two victims. He walked out, tightly closing the door behind him once more. Continuing down the hall he carefully checked each room, finding them all to be empty.

Entering the last room, he walked to the large window, overlooking the stables out in the distance. It was a beautiful sight he thought and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, still facing the window. Carefully he removed his Kevlar, sitting it beside him. Inside, nestled into the top was a picture of his family. Looking at the photo he pulled his 9mm Beretta pistol from its holster on his belt, cocking it. He turned towards the window once more, quietly whispering the Lord's prayer under his breath. Closing his eyes at last, he raised the pistol, pressing the muzzle under his chin. He took a deep breath and slowly squeezed the trigger for the final time.

Steele and Jones heard the single shot echoing from the servants' quarters as they made their way back into the kitchen from the garage. They flashed a quick look at each other before racing up the stairs, leaping over the zombies corpse as they went.

"Evans! Goddammit answer me!" Steel shouted. She and Jones moved along the small corridor, kicking doors open as they did. At last they reached the end of the hall and found Evans' body laying prone on the bed, blood saturating the bed spread beneath his head.

"Evans, oh my God why?" Steele cried out. "We were safe here, all we had to do was clear the house." Reaching out she grasped his now limp right hand, pulling it towards her chest.

"He was bit," Jones said quietly, pointing to the bite mark now revealed on the dead man's arm. "He did it to protect us, to keep himself from turning into one of those things and coming after us." He glanced down at Evans' helmet beside him on the bed, seeing the photograph inside. Reaching out he pulled it free, looking at it closely before placing it into his own uniform pocket. "Come on, we better go catch up with the others, there's still one more of those things in the house."

Briggs and Cowboy had swiftly moved through their area of the house, systematically clearing the rooms. At last they found themselves standing before the double doors of the Senator's study. It was locked, a security keypad mounted beside the door. Stepping forward, Briggs rapidly typed in a series of numbers, but the door remained sealed. "Clever Senator, very clever. You changed your security codes," she murmured.

"Can you open it?" Cowboy asked.

"Yea, just give me a second to think. The Senator may like his high tech security systems, but he's so vain he thinks the simplest security protocols on pass codes don't apply to him."

Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Briggs tried two more quick number series, both failing to open the door. Suddenly she laughed, "It couldn't possibly be this simple," she said, typing in a third number series. A light on the keypad suddenly flashed green and the smooth sound of the locking mechanisms sliding open met their ears. Turning to Cowboy Briggs smiled. "Bingo."

Pulling her HK pistol out, Briggs told him, "Be ready for anything." He nodded in reply and together they moved as a single unit through the door. As they burst through, shots whizzed past their heads. They dove for cover behind a large leather sofa positioned near the door. More shots fired.

"Senator Kelmsley!" Briggs called out. "It's Kendra Burke and Charlie Tyler!"

There was a moment of silence before the Senator responded. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the two of you, of all people, made it through this thing alive. Why don't you come out from behind that damn sofa so we can speak like civilized people."

Briggs grabbed Cowboy's arm as he started to stand. "Whatever you do, don't let your guard down. If that wily old bastard could leave his own wife out there to die, we mean less than nothing to him now that his house is secure."

Slowly, the two soldiers emerged from behind the couch. Coming into the Senator's view now, the older man sat his revolver onto the desk in front of him, uttering, "It's about goddamn time the cavalry got here." He sat down in the high back leather desk chair. "Well don't just stand there gawking all stupid like, tell me what's going on out there."

Carefully keeping her expression blank, Briggs asked, "So you were expecting us Senator?"

"Maybe not you in particular, but of course I was expecting relief to arrive. You don't really think I got this far in my career without gaining some influential friends did you?" he said by way of reply.

"I guess it would all depend on who you consider those friends to be," Cowboy said, earning him a dark look from Briggs.

"I'm a very powerful man Charles. It only stands to reason that people with influence wish to ally themselves with me."

"It's too bad then that your influential friends couldn't keep the zombies out of your home," Briggs said.

"Yes, well, unfortunately they failed to let me know that the timetable had been moved up, otherwise I would have been safely entrenched here from the start. But, I still made it here, and the losses were minimal. I knew my stepson would send in a rescue team after I'd sent him word of my situation here. I just never imagined that he'd send you."

Briggs was so busy pondering the meaning behind his first statement regarding the moved up timetable that she almost missed the significance of his last remark.

"Timetable?" Briggs queried.

"But of course, Operation Clean Sweep. Surely if Riley sent you here you know all about it..." he trailed off, understanding filling his eyes. He made a wild grab for the revolver, but brought himself up short when Briggs fired a warning round into the desk before him.

"What's Operation Clean Sweep?" Cowboy asked.

"Operation Clean Sweep was designed to usher in the new world order. It merely got out of hand somewhat. Like the Great Flood, we've eradicated the undesirables of the world, leaving only the strong!" the Senator ranted.

"You're fucking insane," laughed Cowboy. "Do you even realize what your madness has done? You've killed off most of the world's population!"

"That's a gross exaggeration, Charles," the Senator scoffed. "Our plan is an unmitigated success," he boasted.

"You call the senseless murder of all those people a success?" Cowboy demanded, becoming incensed.

"You're not looking at this clearly my boy. In one crushing blow we've eradicated famine, civil wars, even terrorism across the world. Those who've survived this outbreak will usher in a stronger new world order. We'll break down the barriers of countries, nationalities and unite under one leadership.

"How can you claim to have put an end to terrorism when what you and your little friends have done is the greatest single act of it that this world has ever known," Briggs said quietly. "And how do you know for certain that you've eliminated all the world's terrorist cells? Seems to me they'd be the most likely people to be dug in with tight defenses, your so called strong survival instinct types.

The Senator looked momentarily taken aback by the thought.

Continuing on, Briggs asked, "So how long have you been a part of Unit 8, Senator?"

"I guess you could say I was one of its Founding Fathers," he replied, once again sounding proud of his actions.

Looking at him coolly, Briggs asked quietly, "And Riley knew about your plan?"

Cowboy shot her an incredulous look.

"Well aren't you just the clever girl," the Senator mocked. "Finally putting two and two together are you? Of course he knew, he's my son," the Senator proclaimed.

"Don't you mean stepson, Senator?" Briggs pressed.

"My Son," he intoned sharply, "has been on board with us for nearly a year now. He understands true genius." Smiling now he added, "In fact, he should be along soon to take care of you and your team."

Nodding, Briggs looked away for a moment. "So he set me up by sending me here, is that it?" she asked, turning to face him once more.

Looking momentarily frustrated the Senator replied, "I don't know what was going through his mind when he sent you here. You've always been a weak spot where he's concerned. Perhaps he thought he could persuade you to listen to reason and join us, but you and I both know what a foolish notion that is."

"You bastard," Cowboy began to say, but the Senator paying attention to Briggs alone.

"What's the matter Kendra, did you expect to hear something else?" the Senator taunted.

Turning towards him once more she replied almost inaudibly, "No, that's the problem."

Kelmsley frowned at her response, this meeting clearly not going the way he'd planned.

"Don't worry Senator, I'll be long gone before Riley arrives," she said, causing him to look at her in surprise. "But then, so will you," she finished, swiftly raising her weapon and firing, the shot catching him squarely between his eyes.

"Holy shit Kenny!" Cowboy uttered as Kelmsley's body sprawled across the desk before them.

"He was infected," she said coldly, walking around the desk and the Senator's body to a bookcase situated behind them. Reaching out she grasped the right side and pulled. The bookcase glided open smoothly, revealing a room filled with computers of all description, their quiet hum pouring out into the study. As they entered the room they saw a row of monitors along one wall displaying images captured by the video cameras mounted around the outer walls as well as throughout the house. She walked past them, barely sparing them a glance, too focused instead on the state of the art communications equipment located along the back wall. Taking a seat in a chair before it she pulled up a scrambled video conference call. A dark haired man, slightly graying at the temples appeared on the screen before her.

"It's about damn time you called in," he stated bluntly.

"Can it Dillon, obviously Scarecrow hasn't been notifying you of my reports and I don't have enough time to go into detail right now. Everything we suspected about him was right on the money, the Senator confirmed everything. Now I need to know how long ago Scarecrow flew out of your location."

"Approximately three hours ago. Said he'd received an SOS call asking for assistance."

"I'm initiating plan Alpha. I'll be leaving the civilians here, they'll be safe for the duration. The rest of my unit will move on to my alternative command post."

"What about the civilians? You don't think Scarecrow will use them as leverage to try to lure you out do you?"

"His mother is alive and among them, she's the one person on God's green Earth that he would never harm. I'm counting on her persuasiveness to keep the others safe if it should come to that."

"Keep me posted on your progress. Oh, and Kenny," he said as she began reaching out to terminate the connection. She paused. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about Scarecrow."

"Don't worry about it. And from here on in, Kenny's dead, I'm reactivating my code name." She swiftly terminated the connection.

"So, uh, you gonna fill me in about what's going on?" Cowboy asked. "How long have you known about this shit with Scarecrow being involved with Unit 8?"

"Dillon and I had started to suspect him a few months ago, but just like the rest of the group suspicions were all we had, it's been a bitch finding anything concrete until now."

"And the part about the alternative command post and leaving the civilians?" he asked.

"Little bit of bullshit on my part about the command post, but don't worry we'll take care of that fast enough. We're going to have to move fast and hard if we're going to avoid being here when Riley's attack force arrives. The civilians are just going to get in the way and slow us down, they don't have the training to keep up so they'll be safer here," she replied.

"Attack force?" Cowboy asked, paling slightly.

"You don't think he's coming to discuss the weather do you?" she replied sarcastically.

Chagrined he replied, "So what now?"

"We locate as much detailed Intel as we can on Unit 8, refuel and re-supply the birds and then haul ass out of here," she told him.

Moving to one of the room's many computer terminals, she went to work hacking into the Senator's files. Calling over her shoulder to Cowboy she said, "You gonna just stand there or are you gonna get your happy ass over here and help?"

Smiling, Cowboy moved to take a seat next to her. The sound of clicking keys filled the room until Steele's patrol arrived, minus one man.


	31. Hidden Strength

The helicopters had landed on the estate's private helipad, most of their passengers carted up to the main house in groups along with their gear inside Felix's old Jeep Wrangler that they'd located near the stable. A few, like CJ and Michael, elected to walk the distance. Once they'd reached the house, they were escorted to the formal dining hall and addressed at last by Briggs. 

"We've secured the house with minimal losses," she told them unceremoniously. "I'm going to assign some of you a job to do, and you will do it."

"What do you mean 'minimal losses'?" Ana asked.

"Look sweetheart, I'm a fucking CEO of a Fortune 500 company so it's time you understood that I don't do menial labor," Steve protested loudly.

"That's fine Steve, but remember this, you don't work, you don't eat. Leastwise, not while I'm here. After we leave I'm not particularly concerned what bullshit the others are willing to put up with from you," she announced, drawing outbursts from those situated around the room.

"You can't leave us here alone!" protested Fran.

"You're leaving!" squeaked Nicole.

Turning first to Ana the first to question her, Briggs replied, "We lost Evans while we were clearing the house. He was bit, put a bullet in his own head to keep from turning into one of those things. It was a brave thing, something I hope each and every one of you is prepared to do. As for my team there's been a change in plans," she said, directing her attention back to the rest of the group. "We'll be leaving within the next 48 hours. You'll all be safe here, Caroline will see to that," she said, gesturing to the stately older woman seated at the head of the dining room table.

"But why are you leaving?" Nicole asked.

"Orders."

"Whose orders?" Caroline asked, looking curious. "And why are you wearing that awful uniform and acting like a soldier again? I thought you'd left the Army years ago dear."

Ignoring her, Briggs began delegating tasks. Pointing to Steve, she said, "You're on clean up detail Sunshine. Sanchez and Jones, make sure he actually does the job and gets his hands dirty. Terry, Felix, you two can give them a hand. I want those corpses moved outta the house. Bury them, or better yet burn them. They're already starting to decompose, that's just more disease waiting to happen."

Caroline looked upset. "Kenny! You can't be serious about burning those bodies. For goodness sake Richard is among them. He's a US Senator! Don't you think he deserves the honor of a full state funeral?"

"Caroline, are you up to speed on your current events? Aside from the fact that the world as we knew it is over, meaning that a state funeral is a thing of the past, Richard was a self-important, womanizing hack of a Senator. He had designs on the White House and believe me, there was nothing he wouldn't do to get there, even murder billions of innocent people. Trust me on this, he doesn't deserve your tears or your pompous state funeral ideas," Briggs replied coldly.

Caroline paled at her words, choosing to try a new tactic. "All right then, forget about Richard, he was 'only' your ex-father-in-law so why should that make any difference to you. But what about what Riley? What would he say? And all those others here in the house, don't you think their families would want something better for them?"

"Frankly Caroline, I don't really give a shit. I mean, go take a look outside your front gate. All those things out there, they were once people too. Worldwide, we're talking billions of walking dead now. There's no way survivors like us are going to be able to locate their dead family members and give them a burial, hell, they're rotting away as we talk. This is the reality of our lives now, you have to face it."

"Kendra Burke, I can't believe you'd say things like that," Caroline exploded. "When your husband arrives here maybe he'll be able to talk some sense into you."

"He's my ex-husband Caroline," Briggs gritted out. "And I don't recall ever telling you he was coming here either," she said sharply, watching as the older woman turned ashen again. "So did you know about Operation Clean Sweep? Did you help your husband and your son to kill off most of the world?"

A shocked silence momentarily filled the room before Caroline finally spoke, futilely attempting to express her innocence. "But I didn't know anything about that. I knew Richard and his friends were holding secret meetings, that Riley sometimes sat in on them, but I thought it was all regarding his plan to run for the Presidency!" She looked wildly about the room before focusing once more on Briggs. "Oh Kendra, the only reason I knew about Riley coming here was because Richard told me he was going to his study to contact him for help just after Catalina had bit Thomas and we understood how the sickness was spread. I just never thought he'd barricade himself in there and leave me at the mercy of those, those things..." she trailed off, tears streaming down her face.

A slow clapping broke through the stillness Caroline's confession had brought to the room. "That was really great, the best performance I've seen in a long time. Too bad the academy probably won't be voting this year, you woulda been a shoe in," Sanchez mockingly called out.

"Sanchez!" Briggs called out sharply, her eyes never leaving Caroline's face. "Take your team and get to work removing the corpses."

"Kendra, I knew that if you heard my side of things I could make you understand," Caroline said, smiling through her tears.

Briggs looked away, watching as Sanchez escorted his team out the door of the dining room, literally pushing Steve along in front of them. Finally she turned back to the older woman, "Save it Caroline, I'm inclined to agree with Sanchez right about now. All your little display has really done is convince me how wrong I've been about you." She began to leave the dining room then, until Ana's voice stopped her.

"What about the rest of us Sergeant, what are we supposed to do?"

"CJ, Michael and Roger, follow me. My soldiers already know their assignments. The rest of you may as well get this house cleaned up. I don't know how long you'll be living here, but I assume you don't want to be stepping over body parts while you're here."

As she walked out of the room, her soldiers that had still remained there began exiting too. Steele moved to stand behind Caroline, accompanied by Masters. "Excuse me ma'am, but I have orders to escort you to your room and place you under guard until Sergeant Briggs is prepared to leave."

Standing gracefully, Caroline turned to the young woman. "I believe I shall retire to my room for the evening young woman, but it is of my own free will. I don't require your assistance," she said haughtily.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I wasn't offering you any," Steele said. Raising her rifle slightly, she motioned towards the door with it, "If you please ma'am, I will use force if necessary."

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Helga, jumping to her feet, her words spoken with a heavy German accent. "You come here and you save us only to turn us into your prisoners. Mrs. Kelmsley is the finest of ladies and you have the audacity to pull gun on her? It is absurd!"

"Perhaps you wish to accompany her ma'am?" Steele replied. She withheld the fact that Briggs had instructed her to place both of these women under guard.

"Of course I will accompany her, I would never leave her alone to be roughly treated by the likes of you," Helga sneered. Her devotion to Caroline and her disdain for the soldiers was readily apparent.

Ana and Monica, witnessing this exchange opted to follow CJ, Michael and Roger as they departed to do Briggs' bidding, as did Kenneth, Tom and his nephew Dennis. "Do you ever get the feeling you're like Alice in Wonderland?" Monica asked Ana as they stepped out onto the expansive grounds of the estate, trailing slightly behind the men.

"You mean like I've fallen through a rabbit hole and landed in a world where nothing is as it seems?" she replied.

"Exactly."

"All the time, I'm just glad someone else feels that way too," Ana smiled. She and Monica hadn't really talked that much with each other despite the length of time they'd been trapped in their small group together.

"Sometimes I wish I'd never gotten out of bed that morning, as if that would have changed things any," Monica continued. Ana didn't even need to guess what morning she was talking about.

"So where were you headed when you ended up at Saint Verbena's?" Ana asked quietly, suddenly filled with the urge to get to know her better. To understand how they had all ended up here in this place together. "Or did you just head there from your home?"

"No, I was on my way to the bus station to pick up a ticket. I'd planned on heading west to Madison," she said, unusually embarrassed over the topic.

"What for, hot date?" Ana joked, trying to bring a touch of levity back to Monica's mood.

"I wish, it would have been so much easier," she laughed, hesitating again.

"It wasn't a job interview was it?" Ana asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She'd always thought of Monica as being more street wise than book smart, not the kind of person to attract job offers from what was nearly the other side of the state.

"No. I was actually trying to get into school there, become a Badger and all that shit," she laughed. "It's why I took up exotic dancing a few months before this went down, I wanted a way to earn some good money fast."

"Oh my god! You were an exotic dancer!" Ana laughed. "I don't think I could ever be brave enough to stand on a stage and take my clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers like that. Now, piecing together bodies in the ER with families screaming and crying in the waiting room, and watching some doctor prancing around like a prima donna making play dates for golf instead of dealing with the patients, that was simple," she grinned.

Monica laughed too. "It's actually kind of fun, stripping I mean, if you get the right kind of guys in the bar. But then there are the nights when all you get are the fat, balding, middle-aged married men who all think they're Don Juan and you have to ask yourself is it really worth all that. It's where I learned how to put up with guys like Steve. Great at sex, zero personality."

"Maybe if we live through all this you'll still get your chance to go back to college," Ana said, unintentionally sobering the mood. The two walked in silence for a moment, before Ana suddenly said, "Speaking of Steve, I wonder how he's doing right about now," causing the two of them to burst into laughter once more.

"What about you Ana, how'd you end up at the mall?" Monica asked.

The smile disappeared from Ana's face. "I remember seeing some of the first victims coming into the hospital where I worked. I was there late the night before, kept getting held up for one reason or another, but it was okay. I was going to get a three day weekend at the end of the month so Louis and I could go somewhere romantic. Louis was my husband," she explained, answering Monica's questioning look. She'd long since removed her wedding band. Somehow it had seemed wrong to her to keep wearing it, knowing that even though Louis was dead he was out there walking somewhere in the city, ready to try and kill her again.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Ana continued. "Anyways, it was like any other night, I pulled up to my driveway and the neighbor's kid, Vivian, she was outside roller-skating. She was so proud that she'd learned how to skate backwards," Ana smiled, remembering the smile on Vivian's face. "Anyhow, Louis and I spent that last night, well, 'together' so we missed all the news reports. The next morning, I woke up when Louis climbed out of bed. Vivian just stood in our bedroom doorway, she stepped forward when Louis called her name. That's when he saw her face, it was horrible, all chewed up. He ran to help her and she just bit his neck," she paused, taking a deep breath. It was the first time she'd talked about that morning with anyone she realized. Although it still hurt to think about what happened, Ana realized that sometime during the last few months she'd begun to heal.

"Ana, I had no idea, you don't have to say any more if you don't want to," Monica said quickly.

"No, I don't mind. That is, if you don't mind hearing about it. It's kind of cathartic really. You're the only person I've told any of this too."

"Go ahead, you look like you need to talk to someone," Monica told her, surprised that Ana had chosen her to confide in.

"Well, when Vivian...when Vivian bit his neck I just freaked. I ran over and yanked her off of him, she took a whole chunk out of his neck when I did, right down to the jugular. Anyways, I just hurled her down the hall and slammed the door shut. Then I ran to help Louis, he was terrified, I think he knew he was going to die. I did everything I could to stop the bleeding, but I just couldn't reach the vein..."

She stopped walking then and just sat in the middle of the lawn, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin upon them. Monica plopped down beside her. "Ana, you don't have to go on..."

"I want to, I just don't think I can walk and talk at the same time right now though," she tried bravely to smile. "After Louis turned, it's kind of a blur to me. Somehow I ended up in the bathroom, laying in the tub, covered in his blood and clinging to my car keys. When he put his head through the door and just plowed his way in, I barely made it out the window."

"He put his head through the door?" Monica asked. "Sounds a little bit like a guy I dated once. Did not understand how to take the word 'no' for an answer." It made Ana smile, which was exactly what Monica had hoped would happen.

"You want to know the funniest thing I saw that morning?" Ana asked suddenly.

"There was actually something funny?" Monica replied, intrigued by the thought.

"Well, maybe not exactly funny in a comic sense, more ironic I guess," she explained. "After making it out the window, I'd run around my house to reach the car and was just screaming out for help when I finally took a good look around the neighborhood. There were helicopters flying overhead, gunshots, houses on fire, people running, just screaming in terror as those things chased them. And in the middle of all this, Vivian's dad is walking out onto his lawn, in his bathrobe and slippers of all things. He had blood spattered all over his face, and he was holding a handgun. He kept telling me to stay back, even when I asked him to just tell me what was going on. Right when he raised the gun at me like he was actually going to shoot, an ambulance comes flying out of nowhere and just plows right over him!" She let out a half laugh.

"I guess I don't see what's so funny about that," Monica said.

"Don't you see the irony? Ambulances are for helping people, and this one just plowed a man down," Ana tried to explain. "Maybe we should just catch up with the guys, see what Briggs has them doing," she said at last.

"Sure," Monica agreed. "Just tell me one thing first."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Why'd you tell me all this? After all the time we've been hiding out together..." Monica trailed off.

Ana laughed. "I don't know. I guess a part of it is because I just kind of regret that we've lived all this time together and we still hardly know each other. And the rest of it, I guess I just really needed to get all that out. Thank you."

"So how did you end up at the mall?" Monica asked as they climbed to their feet and started walking once more.

"After I saw Vivian's dad get mowed down by the ambulance, Louis came tearing out of the house after me. I hopped in my car and got the hell out of there, almost managed to plow myself into a sheriff's car along the way. Anyhow, I was doing great heading further into Milwaukee, right up until I came upon a city bus jackknifed across the road. I was totally shell shocked from everything with Louis and Viv so I just sat there crying and watching. Some poor woman was trying to fight those creatures off of her in the back of the bus, and then some asshole jerked my door open and I just totally panicked. I hit the gas and swerved straight through the guard rails. Smashed into a tree at the bottom of a hill. I don't know how long I was out cold. I woke up staring at the airbag, somehow I remembered how to open the door and there was Kenneth, pointing his rifle in my face."

"He did seem to really like that thing," Monica added.

"I know what you mean, it's gotta be a guy thing," Ana said, smiling. "Right after that is when we met up with Michael, André and Luda. You know the rest of the story."

"Yea, I know," Monica replied, looking thoughtful. "Do you want to know the funniest thing, at least to me, that's come out of all this?"

"You mean from the end of the world or this discussion?"Ana asked.

"The end of the world."

"Sure," Ana said, intrigued.

"We're all equals now. The car you owned, the clothes you wore, even how much money you had,it's all meaningless. Yet at the same time people like Steve and that Caroline woman, they're stuck in the past. Theyseem to think what they once were matters to the rest of us, that it somehow makes them better or more worthy to survive. I was a stripper, andSteve knows it," she sawAna's surprised look. "He used to come to the club where I danced all the time, the girls always bitched about how small his tips were. But he was big on trying to take some of them out on his boat fora weekend."

"Somehow that's still crazy sounding, even after what we've been living through," Ana commented.

"Tell me about it," she smiled. "But what I'm getting at here, we spend our whole lives caught up in this trap that we have to accumulate things, fancy houses, designer clothes, money, without ever realizing that in one instant it can all be taken away. We've all lived our lives with someone looking down on us as being beneath them for one reason or another and it takes the end of the world for us to realize that we're all really equals. To me that's funny," Monica finished.

Ana was quiet, not understanding the humor in the subject, but still surprised at how insightful Monica's opinions were. She acknowledged to herself just how much she'd underestimated the other woman, and for precisely the reasons Monica had outlined to her. It was an eye opening discussion for both of them, formingthe start of a bond that went beyond their mutual need for survival.

At last they reached the stable and saw several of the soldiers along with the civilians Briggs had assigned to the task of moving boxes filled with supplies from the stable to the helipad with the help of Felix's jeep. There the boxes sat, awaiting to be loaded on the helicopters. Out at the helicopters themselves, Briggs could be seen manning the fuel pumps and arguing with CJ.

"Look's like there's trouble in paradise," Monica quipped, gesturing towards the couple by the helicopters. "Come on, let's go see what they're talking about," she said, dragging Ana along behind her.

"Damn it, what the hell are you thinking? You just want to abandon us here?" CJ demanded.

"I'm not abandoning you. This is a safe place where you can wait out the end of this thing," Briggs said, not meeting his eyes.

"You're leaving us here, that's abandoning us in my book," he said angrily.

"What do you want me to say CJ?"

"I want you to say that you'll take us with you when you go."

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"Okay CJ, I won't do it. I'm not going to be responsible for taking those two kids and a pregnant woman back out into a goddamn war zone, not when there's a better option for them," she replied. "Imagine the life, scrambling from one rooftop to the next, hoping we don't get overrun at our next pitstop for fuel."

CJ was quiet for a moment before speaking. "I know it's dangerous out there, but how can you be so sure that leaving us hereis a better option? What about all that stuff you were spouting off to the old broad in there? Do you honestly think she wouldn't use us against you somehow after all that? And you told me yourself that you didn't trust 'Scarecrow' completely, why should you believe he wouldn't hurt us now?"

Sighing, Briggs closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the side of the helicopter. "You might have a point," she conceded. "But I still don't think taking a couple of scared kids back out into the thick of things is a good idea either. And deep down I don't think Caroline could endanger those kids that way, or let Scarecrow do anything to hurt them either for that matter. And I don't know what the hell we'd do if that Fran woman has some kind of complications having that kid."

"Fran's a lot tougher than you give her credit for. And those kids, they'll be all right going back out there, they're just a little scared is all. Haven't you ever been scared before?" he asked her.

"Yea. Right now, all the time," she replied, surprising him.

"I kinda doubted you even knew what the word meant," he told her.

"Am I really that much of a bitch? I know what it's like to be scared CJ, I feel it every minute ofevery day. But I have all these people depending on me to keep them alive so I can'tallow myself the luxury of showing any kind of fear." She laughed bitterly. "You know, I once touted the merits of Darwinism to Cowboy, only the strong survive and that kind of shit. I must have sold it to him really good too, the way he looked at me...anyhow, the whole time I was telling him this stuff, I was just trying to convince myself that it was true."

"Why?"

"To hold myself together. If I can make everyone else think I'm a bad ass bitch with no fears in the world, then maybe they'll believe that I know what I'm doing and that I can keep them alive."

"Did anyone ever tell you you're crazy?" he asked, only half jokingly.

"Yea, just about every psychologist who ever tried to profile me," she grinned. "Well, at least the ones who didn't retire immediately afterwardsdid."

"So you'll take us with you when you go, right?" CJ suddenly said.

Briggs groaned. "I'll tell you what, we'll give your group the choice. They can either stay here, safely behind the fences with all the luxuries they could ask for or they can come back out into the world with us knowing we could run into trouble at any time."

"You make it sound so appealing."

"I'm just being honest about things. We don't know for sure where we're going, and we don't know what we might run into along the way."

"But you'll give us the choice?" CJ pressed.

"Yea, the ball's in your court on this. But remember, whoever chooses to come along, they will be under the command of me and my men, no arguments."

"Count me in," he said, looking towards the stables where the others were working.

"I kind of figured as much," Briggs told him, meeting his eyes.

"You can count me in too," Monica's voice called out from the other side of the Stallion. Briggs whirled around, watching as Monica and Ana both came into view.

"Get an earful did you?" Briggs asked grumpily.

"Oh yea, but, don't think that it was a bad thing," Ana told her. "I want to go with you too, when you leave here that is. And I'll follow your commands, but I also want to have my say in things."

"I must be losing my fucking mind. Agreed. We'll put CJ's idea out to everyone tonight, give them a chance to sleep on it, decide what they want to do come morning. Now, if you'll excuse I need to go check on Cowboy's progress with the Senator's files. CJ," she said, thrusting the fuel nozzle towards him, "since you kept me from getting this done, finish it up for me. You two go see Henry, he'll find something for you to do, unless you prefer going back to the house to work."

"No thanks, I think we'll go talk to Henry," Monica said, and the two women headed off towards the stable.

Looking to CJ one more time Briggs said, "I hope I live to regret this decision."

Before he could answer she started the long walk back to the house, never noticing the way Dennis followed along behind her.


	32. Good Intentions

"So what were you and Monica talking about up on the lawn for so long?" Michael asked. He'd quietly walked up behind where Ana stood in the stables, gently stroking the nose of one of the horses still kept there. The sound of his voice breaking through the stillness of the stable made her jump a little. 

"Michael!" she gasped. Turning towards him she smiled. "You scared the crap out of me just now."

"Sorry," he replied, looking slightly sheepish. "I guess I forgot about how jumpy we all are. I was just curious about what you and Monica had to talk about, I saw you sitting on the lawn a little while ago. I don't know, I guess I thought it was kinda odd, you two never seemed that friendly before."

She smiled broadly at him. "We were talking about how we ended up here."

"You mean the helicopters and Briggs' merry men and all that," he said, nodding in understanding.

"No, not that. I'm talking about how we came to be at the mall, when all this craziness started," she admitted.

"Wow, that must have been some talk."

"It was. I'm kind of disappointed with myself that I waited this long to get to know her a little bit, especially after all the time we've spent living together. She's a lot smarter than I ever gave her credit for," Ana told him.

They stood facing each other companionably now. Slowly, Michael reached out with his right hand and grasped her left one lightly, toying with her fingers briefly. It reminded her of a similar moment they'd shared one afternoon when working on the parking shuttles at the mall. "Maybe sometime you could tell me your story too," he said softly, looking into her eyes.

"I'd really like that," she said, squeezing his hand. "But there's something you need to know about first."

"What?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

"Briggs has decided that any of us who want to can fly out with them when they leave tomorrow. I've already told her that I wanted to be on one of those helicopters," she said, squeezing his hand tighter as she looked down at the ground.

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Michael smiled and said, "You know that I'm going wherever you go, right?"

Ana, looked up at him, surprise in her eyes. "I'd hoped you'd come with me, but I wasn't sure," she said hesitantly, looking away as her eyes began to tear up. Stepping forward, Michael reached out with his free hand and gently tilted her chin up so she would once more meet his eyes. He looked searchingly down at her face for a moment before smiling once more, obviously he'd seen what he'd been looking for in her eyes. Slowly, Michael leaned down and kissed her.

"Ana! Are you ready to head back up to the house yet?" Monica's voice called from just outside the stable's front door, causing the pair to break apart. With one long, last look, Michael disappeared through the back door just as Monica came into view.

"There you are," Monica said, walking over to Ana's side. She took a good look at Ana's face and giggled. "Come on, let's get out of here." Stepping through the door, Monica pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. Slowly she exhaled and said, "Sorry about interrupting you and Michael."

Ana's face turned crimson, causing Monica to laugh once more. "Am I that obvious?" Ana asked.

"Only to everyone in the group, I'm sure you've still got the zombies fooled," Monica replied glibly.

"I know I should feel bad about feeling the way that I do about Michael, especially so soon after what happened to Louis," Ana said glumly.

"Why should you feel bad?" Monica asked, genuine surprise on her face.

"Why? Well, for one thing, I've only known Michael a few months. For another, I met him the same day that Lou died. I don't know, I guess you could almost say I feel guilty about it, I can't shake the feeling that it's somehow wrong to feel this way right now," she tried to explain.

"Ana, it's okay. I think they call it survivor guilt that you're feeling. You think you should feel bad about living when he's dead, but I'll bet in a different situation, like if it was Louis sitting here instead of you, you'd want him to move on and make the most out of whatever time may be left in his life. Right?" Monica asked.

"Well, yea. But, I don't know, somehow it still feels like I'm not honoring his memory. He's still out there somewhere, walking around Everett..."she trailed off.

"Forget about that Ana, you'll just drive yourself mad if you keep thinking about it like that. He's not really walking around out there, it's just, I don't know,his shell. It's not the man you loved, his body doesn't belong to him anymore. Don't cheat yourself out of some happiness because of some kind of misguided notion you have over what you owe your dead husband. Michael makes you feel good doesn't he?"

"Safe. Michael makes me feel safe," Ana replied. "He's almost the antithesis of Lou, my whole life with Lou. Don't get me wrong, I loved my husband dearly. We met while I was at college, he was working for the contractor that was putting up some new dorms on campus. He stuck with me through college and nursing school. We got married right after I graduated so that we could move to Everett together when I got a job at the hospital. He gave up his job and everything to be with me. But things were always so chaotic with him."

"More chaotic than all this?" Monica queried, lifting her eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, not like this, I don't think that would even be possible. No, it was more about the craziness of our schedules and trying to make time for each other. We could make plans for something so simple like watching American Idol together, and then I'd have to work late, or he'd.."

Monica interrupted. "Let me guess. Or he'd call and say that the guys were getting together after work for a beer. Don't worry though, he was only going to have one to be social, and then he'd come right home, but then ended up crawling home hours later smelling like a brewery."

Ana laughed. "Exactly! How'd you know?"

"It's a gift," Monica said, laughing. "Seriously though, I think that better than half of my friends who were either married or long term couples had the exact same problems."

"Really? How'd they handle it?" Ana asked, intrigued.

"Usually the long terms suddenly ended, and the marriages became divorces," Monica said. "But there were some outstanding trust issues involved in most of those cases too."

"Scary. Deep down I think Lou and I both knew that we had some serious issues about trust, but neither one of us wanted to admit it.. When he'd spend one of those nights at the bar with the guys, I was always terrified he'd go home with another woman. A couple times I found phone numbers in his jeans pockets when it was my turn to do the laundry. And I don't think Lou could ever get over thefear that I was going to run off with one of the doctors at the hospital," she finished.

"What gave him that idea?"

"Probably my friend Cora. She always had a new guy, and he was usually a married doctor. It was kind of a 'guilt by association' type of thing. But despite all that we were really happy together. As long as we never talked about money," she grinned.

"Uh oh, not one of those he-man, insists he has to make more money than the little woman, kind of guys," Monica groaned.

"I never could understand why some men get all bent out of shape over the idea that their wives earns more money," Ana said.

"Are you kidding? Most of the guys I ever dated had one thing in common. They all thought the biggest judges of their manhood was the size of their cocks and how much money they made. And not always in that order either," Monica told her. "Thank God not all men are like that, the boyfriends who had nojobs, no money, and no ambition to get a job to earn money proved that to me."

"Monica! That's terrible," Ana said through her laughter. "Jesus, how did we even get on this subject anyway?"

"Easy, you were comparing Michael to your husband."

"I wasn't comparing them!" protested Ana.

"Then what would you call it? You said your life with Louis was chaotic, that you had trust issues, and that you found it hard to spend a lot of time together. But I bet the sex was really hot when you did manage to get together," she added with a devilish smile on her face. "On the flip side, you say that Michael makes you feel safe, obviously you trust him, and you spend most of your time together. I just haven't figured out if you've fucked him yet or not. Now, how is that not comparing?"

"Wait, where did my sex life suddenly appear in your messed up equation?" Ana asked.

"Sex is almost always on my mind, it's what's keeping me sane right now. I always speculate about peoples' sex lives. And you're avoiding my question," Monica said, barreling Ana over with her bizarre logic.

"How'd you get to be so smart about this stuff?" Ana asked, still hedging.

"You're stalling."

"Okay, maybe I have been comparing them in my mind," admitted Ana. "But now I have a question for you."

"What."

"Will you be disappointed if Steve decides to stay behind here at the house tomorrow?"

"Not really, I'll probably do a little cheer. Like I said, while the sex is great, there's only so much of his personality, or lack thereof, that even I can handle," she said, grinning. "Besides, there's a couple of those soldiers I wouldn't mind getting to know a little better."

The two continued chattering like a couple of teenagers the rest of the way to the house. When they arrived, they immediately went in search of some rooms for the night. In another area of the house, Briggs and Cowboy toiled away in the computer room. After she'd left the stables she'd sought out Cowboy in the Senator's study. He'd made some significant progress with hacking into Kelmsley's personal files and downloading them onto discs to take with them when they left. Briggs had sat and joined him at the task, filling him in on her latest plans as they worked.

"You're doing what?" Cowboy laughed after Briggs told him about her decision to allow the civilians to choose whether or not they wanted to remain on the estate, or to accompany their team when the helicopters flew out. "Let me guess, that wanna be cop talked you into this."

"Charlie, don't start with me about that," Briggs groaned.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I just think it's awful fast moving for a woman who knew a guy for better than 10 years before she married him."

"I was barely 19 when I got married! I think I was allowed to drag my feet for better than 10 years considering the circumstances. And I was 19 and very dumb too I might add."

"Says the girl with the genius IQ But you also avoided any kind of serious relationship with any other guy, and now here's this blue collar security guard that you're all gung ho about playing house with," Cowboy continued.

"What playing house? We're just trying to make it through this shit in one piece man. So what if I've gotten friendly with the guy, it's not like I'm fucking his brains out every chance I get or something," Briggs declared defensively, causing Cowboy to break into another peal of laughter.

"I'm sorry Kenny, I'm just fucking with you, really. I think it's a really good idea to let some of those civilians come along with us, I mean, we've already lost two good soldiers since we flew outta Gull Island. Some of those civilians are damn good shots too,including your security guard. I can't help but respect a man who can handle a firearm as good as he does. But I'm sure you already thought about all that too," he said.

"Yea, which is pretty much why I let myself get talked into it," she said.

"You little bitch," he said, somewhat in awe.

"I still don't think it's the best idea, don't get me wrong there. But manpower is pretty short on our end, I'd have to be stupid not to accept the truth about that."

"So we're still leaving tomorrow then?" he asked.

"The sooner we get out of here, the better. I want Scarecrow to find a cold trail when he arrives. When we meet, it's going to me on my turf."

"How do you plan on arranging that? Caroline will probably spill everything as soon as he arrives."

"She won't know where we're going, we're the only two who know and that's the way it's staying," Briggs told him. Cowboy was silent, staring intently at the monitor before him.

"What, no arguments?" Briggs prodded, a little surprised at his silence.

"Did you know the Senator was keeping files on us?" he asked quietly, gesturing towards the screen.

"What?" she demanded, pulling up a chair beside him and reading. Scanning through the files quickly, anger shone from her face. "That motherfucker."

"It goes all the way back to 1984, when he took on two charity cases, goes all the up until abouta month before the infection hit," Cowboy murmured.

"Charity my ass, he used two troubled kids to boost his career and help him onto the fast track to the senate," Briggs retorted. "Download that shit too, I want to know what else he's done," she told him, rising to her feet.

"There's some stuff in here from Caroline too. Observations she made to the Senator, it spans from 1984 until you and Scarecrow got divorced," he told her.

"Download that too, on a separate disc from the rest," Briggs said. "There's no reason for anyone but the two of us to see what she had to say." She started to walk towards the door.

"Where you headed now?"

"The guest house. I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of the camouflage look. I'll see what I can scrounge up for you too," she said, walking towards the door. When she reached the hallway, she found Dennis crouching by the door. "What're you doing here kid?"

He quickly stood, eyes downcast, and toeing the carpet as he replied, "Nothing."

"Nothing huh? Well then, why aren't you with your Mom or your brother? I bet they could find something to keep you busy. They're probably wondering where you are."

He shrugged, still staring at the floor, now shifting uneasily from side to side. "My Mom's been in the kitchen all day, she found a bottle of wine, probably more, she doesn't like me around when she's drinking. Zach doesn't like me around much either, especially if I follow him around, he says I'm just a pest," he said softly.

Mentally sighing as she thought about her own messed up childhood Briggs made up her mind to take the kid with her for awhile. "Come on kid, you can keep me company. I'm gonna go raid my old room at the guest house, see if I can find any clothes to wear that aren't green."

Looking up at her in momentary shock, a small smile formed on Dennis' face. "You really mean it?" he asked. "I can come with you?"

"Yea kid, that's what I said. Now let's go, times wasting."

The pair moved quickly into the guest house. It was a much smaller version of the main house on the outside, inside it was completely different. The first floor house a large kitchen and dining room along with a study and a library. The upstairs held 5 spacious bedrooms. Dennis still trailed slightly behind Briggs as she ascended the stairs, moving down the hallway to a closed bedroom door. She slowly pushed open the door, met with the stale smell of disuse emanating from the room.

Dennis wrinkled his nose slightly at the smell. "This was your room?" he asked.

"Yea, a long time ago," Briggs replied distractedly, moving towards the closet doors.

Dennis began walking around the room, looking at pictures littering the top of the dresser. "Is this you?" he suddenly asked, holding out a picture of a smiling couple, a tall dark haired man standing with his arm around a equally dark haired girl clad in what appeared to be Army Class A's.

Briggs turned to look, "Yea, that was my graduation from Basic Training."

"Your hair was black," Dennis commented.

"Yea kid, the miracle of hair dye. I didn't always like being a read head," she replied.

Nodding Dennis put the picture back, looking instead at another one tucked into the frame of the dresser's mirror. It was Briggs again, Cowboy was with her, and once more the dark haired man. "Who's the guy with you in all these pictures?" he asked, curiously.

Frowning, Briggs moved away from the closet and joined him. "That was my ex-husband Riley. I think you know who Cowboy is," she said, pulling the picture free from the mirror, looking at it reminiscently. She started to put it back into the mirror frame, but at the last moment shoved it into one of her pockets instead. Turning she pulled an old duffel bag from one side of the closet and began pawing through the clothes still hanging there.

As Briggs methodically worked her way through the closet, occasionally pulling something out and tossing it on the bed, Dennis continued to poke around the room. Peaking out from beneath the bed he saw the corner of a photo album. With a quick look at Briggs to see if she was paying attention, the boy quickly sat down on the floor and began thumbing his way through the book. As he scanned the photos inside, he recognized a much younger version of Caroline in several of them, as well as a younger looking Riley. He lifted the book higher to get a closer look at a picture where, posed in front of the Vietnam War Memorial, Caroline, Riley, a guy he figured to be the Senator and two kids that looked younger than he was now stood unsmiling. As he did, a creased and battered photo fell to the floor from the back of the book.

Reaching down, Dennis picked up the picture. It was the same two kids from the picture with the Senator's family, a blonde haired boy and a red haired girl standing with a tall blonde man. The three of them stood in front of the Vietnam War Memorial wall, much like the other picture that was so carefully arranged in the album. In both photos, the two kids were wearing the same clothes, so he figured they had to have been taken the same day. Turning the loose one of the man and kids over he saw something written on the back in a childish script, 'Me, Charlie and Dad, Memorial Day, 1984'it read. He struggled to remember what he'd heard Briggs and Cowboy talking about in the study earlier. Cowboy had said something about 1984 and two troubled kids. He wondered if it was the two in the photograph he was now holding. If only he could have heard more of their conversation in the study, but it hadn't been easy to hear their voices all the way out in the hall where he'd been eavesdropping. He thought about asking Briggs about the two kids, but then he would have had to admit that he'd been listening. Glancing over the side of the bed to see if she was watching, Dennis carefully slipped the photo into his jeans pocket.

"You about ready to head back to the house?" Briggs suddenly asked, causing the boy to jump. She was just finishing up loading some clothes into the duffel bag she'd put on the bed earlier.

"Yes," Dennis said, quickly stuffing the photo album back beneath the bed where he'd found it. "You must come here an awful lot to have your clothes here already," he said nervously, uncomfortable in the silence.

"Not really. Actually it's been a few years since I was here last. I left in such a hurry that I never even bothered to stop and pack up my stuff," she replied, walking swiftly down the hall.

Hurrying to keep up, Dennis asked, "What for?'

"I got into a really big fight with the Senator, and after that I didn't feel much like sticking around long enough to pack," she said.

"But why?" he asked.

"Because there are more important things in life than material possessions," she told him. "Especially when someone like the Senator tries to control you."

"What do you mean control you?" Dennis asked, trying to understand what she was saying.

"You sure ask a lot of questions," she said gruffly, wanting to change the subject. "Why didn't you want to go hang out with your brother? "

"I told you, he doesn't like me following him around," Dennis said bluntly.

"Why not? I mean, granted you're a little bit younger than he is, but it's not like he's got friends he's trying to impress or something," commented Briggs.

"I think Zach has a crush on that girl Nicole," Dennis confided. "And he's trying to show off to her, especially in front of Terry."

"Deliver me from adolescent boys," she mumbled in response.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she grinned. "What else doesn't Zach like about you?"

"Zach's only my half-brother. He doesn't like me much 'cause my Dad stuck around and married our Mom and his didn't. That's what Uncle Tom told me one time, he'd found me after Zach had locked me in a toy box. Zach's never even met his real Dad so he resents me, or at least, that's what Uncle Tom says," Dennis said matter-of-factly with far too much maturity for a kid his age.

"Yea, parents can really screw up a good kid," Briggs said offhandedly. "What about your Dad? Where's he at?"

A sad look came over the boy's face, almost making Briggs regret having asked the question. Finally he said, "I don't know. Zach says he's become one of those things that was trying to break into our apartment back in Kansas City. He'd gone to work the morning after all the news reports about those zombie things had started. I got up when Zach did for school, and Mom was talking to Dad on the phone and he told us that we had to stay inside with the doors locked. Mom was crying a whole lot. I guess Dad had told her some of the crazy stuff he'd seen on his way downtown, he said he was coming back home, but we never saw him again. A couple hours after he'd called, Mom tried to call him at the office, but the phones were dead. After awhile, Uncle Tom showed up, one of those things almost got him outside the apartment door, but he kept hitting it in the head with a tire iron until it fell down and didn't get back up. We spent the whole night waiting up for my Dad and watching the television, but by the next morning none of the stations were broadcasting anymore. Until you guys showed up we weren't even sure there was anyone else left alive. Uncle Tom climbed up on the fire escape and hung up the t-shirt we'd written on, butall he heard were people moaning on the roof so he figured they were all dead too."

After listening to Dennis' story, Briggs was half tempted to say something reassuring about his father possibly still being alive, but she couldn't bring herself to commit to a falsehood that could only scar the boy worse. Instead she decided to change the subject.

"So what makes you think Zach's trying to show off to Terry and Nicole?"

Looking surprised at the question, the boy answered, "He's always trying to find reasons to flex his muscles around her, and he likes to brag about being the Captain of the football team to her." Grinning, Dennis added, "But he was only gonna be trying out for the JV team this fall. He's really jealous that Terry gets to carry a gun too."

"Speaking of which, it wouldn't hurt for you and Zach both to learn how to handle a weapon. You never know when you're gonna find the need to defend yourself," Briggs said thoughtfully.

"You really mean it?" Dennis cried out excitedly.

"Chill little man. Firearms are not toys and you and Zach will only be allowed to handle them when you're with me, or someone I say is okay. Got it?"

He nodded his head enthusiastically in agreement. "When do I get to start learning how? Will you teach me first?"

Rolling her eyes, Briggs sighed. "How about after I get changed out of these BDU's? There should still be plenty of light for a few more hours, we can go out on the lawn aways, where you can't accidentally shoot somebody."

The rest of the way to the main house Dennis kept up a steady stream of chatter about learning to shoot a gun. Escaping into her room at last, Briggs leaned back against the door for a moment, hoping she hadn't made yet another mistake.


	33. Something Always Comes Along

"That one, over there, the one that looks like that Dirty Harry guy," Terry called out. 

"You mean Clint Eastwood?" asked Briggs, taking aim.

"Yea! That's his name," he replied.

A shot rang out, echoing through the still evening. Even with the zombies growling in the background, the day had been surprisingly peaceful, Terry thought, even now standing atop the gatehouse. Although the mob outside the gate had grown steadily since they'd arrived, it was still nothing at all like at the mall.

"Okay, you're up," Briggs announced. "Tara Reid."

Terry searched over the crowd, finally spotting what had probably once been a pretty young blonde woman. Taking aim carefully, he squeezed the trigger. The shot took the zombie in the head, its body dropping soundlessly to the ground.

"Too bad, you missed her," Briggs said cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" Terry asked, surprised. "That was a clear head shot, you saw her fall."

"Wrong blonde," Briggs said, raising her own weapon again. "I was talking about the one over by the pine tree. Kinda looks like a cross between Streetwalker Barbie and a Goth zombie, the one you hit, way too Little House on the Prairie to be Tara Reid." She aimed and fired, bringing down the creature she'd described.

"Damn, I didn't look out that far," Terry complained. "I was just looking for a blonde right out in front."

Dennis stood quietly behind them, watching their 'game.'

"Can I try?" the boy asked suddenly.

"Do you really think you're up to it?" Briggs asked.

He nodded. "I'm not a little kid anymore."

Briggs looked at him for a moment, sadness washing over her. No kid in the world should have to live through something like this. Fortunately kids seemed more resilient than most gave them credit for. It was a good thing, kids the world over had been growing up facing horrors that had deprived them of their innocence for generations. Vietnam, Cambodia, Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq. Who knew the list would grow to include every major world power from the United States to the UK, Germany to China, Russia to Japan, nobody was immune now.

"Okay," she said at last, handing him a .22 rifle that had once hung in Andy's Gun Works, a place that seemed worlds removed now. The rifle wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the HK G3/SG1 Briggs used or the M16A2 that Terry currently wielded, but it got the job done and didn't have as much of a recoil as the other rifles either.

"Mel Gibson," Briggs said, peering out at the mob before them.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Terry asked as he moved up beside her, looking uncomfortable at the idea.

"No," she said truthfully. "But he needs to know how to take care of himself, especially after those of us who choose to go fly out of here."

"But why? I thought you said this place was safe," Terry said, his voice laced with confusion.

"It's as safe as it can be Terry, but until all those things out there are safely exterminated, no place is impenetrable."

"Mel Gibson was the guy in those Lethal Weapon moves, right?" Dennis suddenly called out, breaking Terry and Briggs out of their not-so-private conversation.

"Yea kid, I'm surprised you remember them," Briggs told him.

"My Uncle Tom used to watch them all the time, whenever my Mom and Dad asked him to baby-sit. Him and Zach would wait until they thought I was asleep and pop popcorn and just hang out watching Lethal Weapon movies all night 'til Mom and Dad got home. Mom was always mad that Uncle Tom let Zach stay up so late, but not Dad," he said, a faraway look in his eyes.

Sensing he was thinking about his missing father, Briggs asked, "So are you gonna give this a try or not?"

Turning silently, Dennis focused his attention on the zombies below once more. He looked through the rifle scope intently, carefully taking aim the way Briggs had shown him. Whispering under his breath to himself, he squeezed the trigger. The shot missed, going wide and harmlessly striking a nearby zombie in the arm, causing it to let out a furious snarl as it lunged in the direction the bullet had come from. "Dang it! You two make it look so easy," the boy complained.

"Did you see that?" Terry asked, surprised.

"Yea, Dennis, let me see that rifle for a minute," Briggs said.

"But I want to try again!" the boy protested fiercely. "I know I can hit him this time."

"In a minute, just let me see the rifle," she insisted, reaching for the .22 rifle. Reluctantly, Dennis relinquished his hold on the weapon.

Taking aim, Briggs fired into the arm of a second zombie. Just like the one that Dennis had inadvertently hit, this creature also uttered a furious snarl, lunging towards the gatehouse.

"How very interesting," Briggs muttered.

"It's like they're reacting to getting shot now," Terry commented. "Not like they feel pain, but like they know they've been sorta wounded, and who inflicted it. Look, both of them are pushing their way through the mob right towards us."

"Indeed," she replied, distractedly.

"Can I try to shoot again now?" Dennis asked, shaking Briggs from her thoughts.

Handing the rifle back to the boy, Briggs said, "Just relax, focus on the target and most importantly, don't close your eyes when you squeeze the trigger like you did last time. That's what threw off your aim."

Doing as she'd directed, he struggled to keep his eye open as he once more took aim. Carefully squeezing the trigger, the shot caught the Mel Gibson zombie high on its forehead. "Did you see that!" he yelled. Tightly gripping the rifle in his hands, Dennis did a little victory dance.

"That was so awesome," he continued, "Just like my Resident Evil games I used to play on my Playstation."

Grabbing him by the back of his neck, Briggs hauled him away from the edge of the roof where his strange little dance had left him. "It's not a game Dennis," she ground out. "Try to keep in mind that these things were all people once, just like you and me."

"But you and Terry was playing Hollywood Squares! That's a game too!" he replied defensively.

"Yea we did, and it was probably wrong of us. But we weren't doing victory dances or comparing our actions to video games, now were we? In a way we're giving these nameless creatures an identity, maybe not their own, but at least for a few minutes before they die for good they've got a name," she told him.

He hung his head for a moment, quietly muttering, "I was just trying to be like you."

Briggs shook her head, starting to grab up extra rounds of ammunition. "If that's the case kid, then God help you. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Dennis and Terry both looked towards her in surprise.

"Come on, it's getting late. Let's call it a day and go grab some chow." She turned to the ladder they'd leaned against the side of the building, swiftly descending to the ground.

"Did I say something wrong?" Dennis asked.

"No, Briggs just has a lot on her mind right now. She can be a little 'intense' sometimes," Terry said reassuringly. "Come on, we'd better get going."

A short time later, most of the occupants of the house were gathered together in the formal dining room for dinner.The majorityof them sat in silence, watching as all hell broke loose between Chrissy and Briggs.

"How dare you take my son out and give him a gun," Chrissy slurred loudly. It was readily apparent that Dennis had been right about her having found a bit more to drink than a single bottle of wine. "You could have gotten him hurt, maybe even killed!" she shouted out belligerently.

Briggs looked at Dennis before caustically replying to his mother. "I guess I figured he should know how to defend himself, especially if his mother's going to be too drunk to look out for him."

"Are you trying to say that I'm some kind of a bad mother?" Chrissy demanded.

"Now Chris," Tom said cajolingly, "I'm sure the Sergeant isn't saying anything of the sort, were you Sergeant?"

"Better to just ignore Kendra, Chrissy dear. She can't help but be a bad influence on kids, it's genetic. Like father, like daughter, isn't that right Kendra?" Caroline said blandly.

Ignoring the Senator's wife, Briggs replied, "Nah Chrissy, I'm sure that when you're actually sober you're an okay mother. But right now isn't the time or the place to be falling off the wagon. If you're going to be drinking yourself into oblivion, Dennis and Zachary too for that matter, they're both going to need to know how to defend themselves."

"I'm not some kind of drunk," Chrissy insisted, rising to her feet ad nearly tripping over her own chair in the process. "Besides that, you just took off with my baby boy without ever bothering to ask me if it was okay. Then...Then you not only taught him how to use a gun, but had him killing people with it too!"

"For the record, Dennis only took out one of those things. And I'm not really sure why you consider shooting them as killing people," Briggs reasoned. "They died a couple months ago, for the most part, their bodies just haven't caught up with that fact."

"They're still human beings!" Chrissy insisted.

"But Mom, I was real careful!" Dennis cried out. "First, the Sergeant showed me how to load it. Then we set up some practice targets and she taught me how to aim. She said I was a natural at it. Terry found us while we were shooting at the targets, and then we went and got a ladder to go up on the roof of the gatehouse and they showed me how to aim for the heads of the zombies," he finished with a flourish.

Briggs felt a momentary twinge of relief that the boy hadn't mentioned anything about the 'Hollywood Squares' game she and Terry had shown him.

"What in the hell have you been doing to my baby boy?" Chrissy fairly shrieked.

"I told you already, I showed him what he needs to do in order to survive," Briggs replied coolly, pushing her barely touched plate of food away and giving up all pretense of eating.

"And of course you took it upon yourself to decide what the boy did and did not need to know," Caroline said, her words further agitating the boy's mother.

"Yea Caroline, I decided everything, it had absolutely nothing to do with the necessity created by those things out there."

Up until this point, the rest of the room had watched the exchange between the three women in started silence. It was something like a bad soap opera unfolding right before their eyes.

"I think I should have been the first to go shooting with you," groused Zachary. "I'm the oldest, practically an adult."

Everyone ignored Zachary's outburst. Briggs thought he was probably looking for something else in which to try and impress Nicole.

"Caroline, just what exactly would you do if those things broke in here, into this house right now?" Michael asked out of curiosity. His question got most of them thinking.

Momentarily caught off guard, Caroline replied, "I suppose I would run to the study and lock myself in there. Richard has always told me that with the security doors armed, the room is impregnable. And of course with the radio in there I could call for help."

"But how would you get there?" Kenneth asked. "According to Michael's little hypothetical situation those things would be all over in the house, hallways, rooms...how'd you get to the study without a weapon? And if you had one, would you know how to use it?"

"Oh my God! You two are actually defending what that crazy psycho bitch Briggs did showing the kid how to shoot a gun," Steve laughed. "That's sweet, really, I could be forced to vomit right about now or collapse into a diabetic coma or something," he said, reaching for a bottle of wine and refilling his own glass and raisingit in mock salute to the others.

"Go to hell Steve," Monica said bitterly. "Briggs has a point about making sure we at least know our heads from our asses when it comes to shooting a gun."

"If we can all stop acting like a group of two year olds I'll get to the point of why we're all here together right now," Briggs said stiffly.

"What's this Kendra? I thought we were just sitting down to a friendly dinner together," Caroline said derisively. "Always secretive, never fully telling the truth. Tell me Kendra, can you even tell the difference anymore between the truth and all the lies you've told?"

Refusing to show Caroline how much her words irritated her, Briggs merely shrugged and responded, "Yea, can you?"

Caroline narrowed her eyes but didn't speak, so Briggs continued to address the rest of the group. "Tomorrow my team is flying out at noon. Those of you who wish to accompany us, I suggest you be there. The rest of you, I'm sure Caroline won't be too put out if you wish to stay and avail yourself of her hospitality. That's all." She stood and strode from the room before anyone else could speak.

"Well, I for one will be staying here," Chrissy announced. "My boys too, I won't subject them to that sociopath any more."

"You're most welcome to stay here, dear," Caroline said imperiously. "With Catalina and Thomas both gone I could most definitely use some more help around here."

While some could only gape at her choice of words, Sanchez had no qualms about responding. "Damn bitch, that is some pretty cold shit. You're actually inviting this woman and her kids to stay because half your employees went and got themselves killed." He laughed bitterly. "That's bullshit lady, I may not be one of Briggs' biggest fans, but I'm damn sure glad I'll be heading out on the helicopter tomorrow."

"I'm not looking for them to by my servants," Caroline blustered. "I just thought that they'd be able to repay my kindness in allowing them to reside here, in my home for goodness sake, by helping with the household work."

"And how is that not asking them to work for you?" Sanchez asked.

"They'd be earning their keep!" Caroline said, agitated that he would have even brought up such a gauche topic.

"Oh my God! You're really serious about that aren't you?" Fran asked incredulously.

"You all are twisting my words around to make me sound like some kind of villain," Caroline stated, slightly shocked to realize that these people might actually side against her with Briggs.

CJ stood up and quietly exited the dining room. Pausing for a moment outside the door, he tried to guess which way Briggs might have gone. Finally he moved quickly in the direction of the Senator's study, figuring that she'd probably shut herself up there with Cowboy once more. The arguments from inside the dining room continued long after CJ was out of ear shot. Within moments he stood outside the door of the study. Just barely audible, he could here the sound of voices coming from within the room. Stepping quietly into the study, he stood and just listened.

"Are you sure you read the files right?" Briggs' voice carried from within the computer room to the study.

"I'm sure. Take a look for yourself Kenny, it's right here. It goes a long way to explain the reactions you witnessed," Cowboy said.

"Just when you think things are looking up something comes along to bite you in the ass. Does it say for how long?" she asked.

"Nothing definite, they were still in the process of trying to determine at what level they started exhibiting the properties when we blew the lab. The only definitive information here is that the virus would somehow stay the decomposition rate of those things once it reached a certain plateau that would begin affecting their mobility," he explained.

"Jesus, how is this even possible? A fail safe built into a goddamn virus to keep it from dying out a quick death," Briggs asked rhetorically, not even expecting an answer.

"The way I figure it, they needed a back up plan. If their fucking cannibal foot soldiers decayed too fast, literally falling to pieces on them, what good would they be?"

"Which explains why they were trying to beef up the second strain and make them faster," Briggs muttered.

"How's that?" Cowboy asked curiously. From out in the study, CJ silently asked the same question.

"Think about it. The second strain creatures, those fast reflexes, killer speed. They overran the cities in probably a third of the time it took the first strains to do it. With that kind of potential, they wouldn't need the fail safe. Why keep them around after they do the job?" Briggs reasoned.

"Then why are the second strain ones exhibiting the slowing decomposition?" he asked.

"They didn't have time to get it right before it got released. They were taking the original strain and trying to design a derivative that would have the same regenerative properties, bringing the clinically dead back to life, yet completely skipping that whole rigor mortis phase that kept the first strain victims limited to that slow stiff gait. They had all the primary functions of a living person with the exception of rational thought and memory. The test subjects, they went out and spread the disease like wildfire, they couldn't be contained. Somehow along the way the scientists failed to remove that little safety."

"Shit," Cowboy muttered. "So what you're saying now is they're going to be mobile a lot longer than what we'd counted on, our timetable for trying to launch some kind of counter attack and wipe them out just became obsolete."

"Exactly. Did you let Dillon know what we've learned?" Briggs asked.

"Yea, he didn't say much though, just wondered what your plans now are."

"That's all he had to say?" Briggs said, surprise in her voice.

"No, not entirely. He said he'd notify the president about what we'd learned, same kind of shit you always expect to hear. He also said to watch our asses out there."

"Did you tell him anything else? Like where were going?" Briggs questioned.

"Hell no. I told him you weren't sharing your plans with anyone, even me."

"Well done, I guess you can teach an old dog something after all."

"Yea, well, I guess its a good thing for you that all this secret agent kinda shit runs in the family," he grinned. "So, where the fuck are we going anyway little sis?"

"Uncle Mike's."

"Don't you think those things'll be at Mike's? Could be risky."

"I'm willing to bet Uncle Mike went underground as soon as this thing hit. Unless these things can sense human flesh in an underground bunker, it should be safe. The problem is going to be with the helicopters, those things are drawn to them."

"What makes you say that?" Cowboy asked, hoping she was wrong.

"They've beenfollowing us, and then they gather wherever we land. Obviously they can't follow us all the way once we're airborne, but they move in our direction unless something distracts them. If you don't believe me, you should see the numbers that are growing out there around the fence," she told him. "Their awareness is beginning to develop, it's only going to be a matter of time before they start learning how to communicate, to organize..."she trailed off.

"So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?" CJ's voice barked out from the study.

"How long have you been there?" Cowboy asked, irritated. CJ walked into the computer room.

"Long enough, but don't worry, unlike you two, I was smart enough to close the door behind me," CJ told him.

"Charlie, it's okay. We're going to have to let the others know about this anyway, at least the ones who are going back out into the thick of it with us," Briggs commented. "CJ, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Bring Ana, Michael, Kenneth, Monica, and any of the others that you think are going to fly out of here with us tomorrow. Load up in the humvees in the garage, bring your weapons and meet me and Cowboy by the gatehouse. I've got something you all need to see, I'll explain everything then."

CJ looked reluctant to leave. Briggs walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled him close for a moment, whispering something into his ear. Sighing, CJ looked her in the eyes and said, "You're crazy, you know that don't you?" Briggs only smiled. "All right, I'll do it, but I hope you're wrong about this."

"What's going through that head of yours Kenny?" Cowboy asked as CJ exited through the study door.

"Fear."

Cowboy looked at her in surprise, "In 25 years, I've never once heard you admit to being scared of anything until now."

"Dad never admitted to being scared either, but you knew he was terrified almost every day, right up until the end," she answered. "Let's grab some gear, we'll take a couple of the quads out to the gate, do some night firing when we're done."

It was a small group that assembled. CJ was only able to locate Michael, Ana, Monica, Kenneth, Terry, Peter, Roger, Fran, Tom, and Dennis. "So what's going on Briggs, or Kendra, or whoever the fuck you are?" Kenneth asked.

"Fair enough question. To clear a few things up, I was born Kendra Burke. As part of my cover it was necessary to eliminate that identity. Only a select few individuals even know she still exists."

"What do you mean eliminate?" called out Ana.

"Official records list Sergeant Kendra Burke as being buried in Arlington Cemetery, killed during a helicopter crash while serving in Kuwait roughly five years ago. Equipment malfunction during a routine patrol," Briggs told them. "That's neither here nor there though. Officially, to you all, I am Sergeant First Class Kennedy Briggs, United States Army. But that's not why I asked CJ to bring you out here."

"What are you talking about?" Monica now asked.

"You might want to save that question until after you hear what I have to say," Briggs said. "As Cowboy and I were going through the Senator's files, along with what I downloaded from the research lab, we've made a few discoveries about those zombies."

Cowboy stepped forward, "It seems that the virus strains were developed so that they would somehow slow the decomposition of the body after it started effecting the motor abilities. The second strain, with your fast movers, they were supposed to eliminate that ability, but it looks like someone in the lab goofed."

"They also appear to be developing an awareness level. They can't fully rationalize or communicate yet, but I think it's only a matter of time," Briggs added.

"Wait, are you saying that those things can think?" Michael said.

"No, at least not yet anyway. We're saying they have the potential to do that. Right now, they've learned to recognize that we're not only their food source, we're also a potential threat. If you injure one instead of bringing it down, it comprehends that there was an injury inflicted to its body, and it seeks out the cause of that injury. Earlier when Terry and I were out here doing some practice shooting with Dennis, we missed one, hit it in the arm. It recognized where we were standing and started to charge us."

"That doesn't mean anything," Fran said. "It probably just saw you standing here and randomly attacked, the way they all do."

"Maybe, but it doesn't explain the video footage of them along the wall. It looks like they're searching for a weak point where they can get through. If you'll also notice, they can see us standing here through the entry gate, but they're not trying to charge it and get us," Briggs pointed out.

"Are you kidding? Listen to them out there," Tom said, placing an arm around his nephew's shoulder. "They're snarling and in a frenzy out there."

"But they're not touching the fence," Cowboy said. "They've learned from watching others of their kind get fried that they can't touch it. That's the point we're trying to make here. These things have an animal mentality, but like all us animals, they can learn."

"It's going to be a tight fit, but I want everyone but Terry and Dennis up on the roof of the gatehouse to see for themselves what we're talking about. Fran, maybe you should stay down too," Briggs told her.

"I'll be fine," Fran said quickly, moving towards the ladder. Peter steadied it as she slowly began to ascend to the roof.

"Why can't me and Terry come up?" Dennis asked her.

"You've already seen what I'm about to show them, they need to see it for themselves kid. Stay here with Terry and keep an eye on the fence for us," she told him, squeezing his shoulder as she moved past towards the ladder.

"Okay, we're up here," Kenneth said. "What are we supposed to be seeing?"

"Look along the outer walls, the way they're moving along them. See what I mean about systematically looking for weaknesses. Cowboy, hand them the stuff," Briggs told him.

Cowboy began passing out field glasses and rifle scopes to the group assembled along the roof, as Briggs pulled out a pair of .22 rifles she and Cowboy had brought along. "Now watch down there along that treeline," Cowboy told them as he took the rifle Briggs handed him.

"I say again, what exactly are we supposed to be seeing here?" Kenneth asked once more.

"See how they're just kind of roaming right now, a little aimless? They haven't quite picked up on the scent of living flesh yet, we're downwind of them at the moment," Briggs called out. "Now watch." She and Cowboy both fired off a shot, catching a pair of zombies in the arm and shoulder respectively. As before, they snarled and began charging towards the gatehouse and fence.

"I'll be damned," Roger said.

"They recognize threat," Briggs pointed out, watching as the two zombies in question pushed their way through the mob until they stood beside the gatehouse. "And they also recognize our helicopters for what they are, a mobile feast."

"You don't seriously think all these things have followed us from where we landed last," Fran said incredulously.

"No, but the local ones are drawn to the sound. Whether or not they recognize the sound from their lives to understand what's causing it, or that they're used to haul people around in, that I can't tell you," Cowboy answered.

"This is all very interesting," Tom said, "But what exactly is this supposed to be showing us?"

"I'll be the first to admit to you all that we need some of you to come with us when we go tomorrow," Briggs responded. "But I also want you to be aware of what we're potentially going to be dealing with out there. They're going to be getting smarter, and we're going to need to be on alert 150 of the time. The quick end to all this from decomposing in the summer sun that I've been counting on, well, that's not in the cards anymore. You need to be absolutely certain that you're going to be ready to face it out there, with no walls to protect you."

"Are you trying to convince us to come with you or to stay here?" Tom asked.

"That's for you to decide."

"And you brought us all the way out here just for this?" Roger asked skeptically.

"I'm a big believer in visual evidence speaking volumes more than my words ever could."

"So now what?" Michael asked.

"Now, we're going to do a little bit of night firing," Cowboy told him, indicating himself and Briggs. "Y'all are welcome to do whatever you want."


	34. Uninvited Guests

As dawn broke over the house, Nicole slipped quietly from the room she'd shared with Fran the night before. Actually, the room was more of a suite, she'd ended up crashing on the couch in the sitting room since Fran had been fast asleep by the time Nicole had returned to their rooms. A door down the hall opened and Nicole ducked down behind a large fern that decorated the hall just outside her door. Peering around the edge of the planter, she saw Briggs emerge from the room toting her ever present rifle, as well as a large duffel bag. She turned and said something to whoever had been inside of the room with her. Nicole assumed it was that other female soldier, Steele, until CJ stepped into view attempting to pull a sleeveless T-shirt over his head. The girl stifled a laugh as she watched him try to maneuver the T-shirt neck over his 'Security' hat which was perched on his head as usual. The hat and his boots were all that remained of his security officer uniform. 

As Nicole continued to watch, Briggs reached out and snatched the hat from CJ's head, just as he'd finally managed to pull the T-shirt on over it. She said something that made CJ laugh quietly before bending his head and giving her a quick kiss as he grabbed the hat and put it back on, once more covering his receding hairline. She said something more to him and he quickly stepped back into the room, reappearing as he shrugged into his favorite denim shirt that he'd ripped the sleeves from, much like the T-shirt he already wore. Hefting a duffel bag onto his own shoulder, and cradling a rifle in his other arm, the duo made their way down the hall, moving away from Nicole, towards the stairwell, and descending below.

Standing once more, Nicole crept back into her room for a quick minute, hurriedly gathering her own belongings into a duffel similar to CJ's. Taking a quick look around to make sure she hadn't left anything behind, a thought came to mind. Swiftly, she went into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and pulling out extra toiletries, razors, Band-Aids, even a box of tampons. Who knew if there'd be anything like this available wherever Briggs was planning on taking them. She dumped the stuff into her bag and then once more left the room, hurrying down the stairs. At the bottom she decided to head towards the kitchen in search of food. She was starving after that disastrous dinner last night, she'd hardly been able to eat with all the verbal sparring going on between the others. It didn't help that this morning she was wracked with guilt about sneaking off the night before without telling Terry where she was going. Worse yet, Zachary had tagged along after her, trying out every tired pick up line in the book. The only good part was discovering that he was just as skilled with a can of spray paint as she considered herself to be.

Arriving in the kitchen, Nicole was surprised to find Monica and Ana there already, perched on one of the counters together eating what appeared to be large bowls of cereal as they talked. When they spied her in the doorway, Monica called out, "And just where were you last night? Normally I'd guess that you were playing hide the salami with Terry, but he was with us," she grinned wickedly at Nicole, sensing that she'd touched a nerve with that comment.

"Nowhere special," Nicole mumbled. "I needed to get out of the house after all that yelling during dinner last night so I just ended up taking a walk down to the stables, you know, petting the horses and stuff. ."

"Petting the horse? That's a new way of putting it. Oh, and by the way, in case you were wondering, Terry noticed that both you and Zach were both missing," Monica told her, smiling at how the younger girl stiffened.

"Mon, be nice," Ana said looking between the two girls. "Nicole, why don't you join us for breakfast. Somehow they've managed to get some fresh milk here. I can't remember when a bowl of cereal tasted so good."

"Fresh milk?" Nicole asked, surprised. She fixed herself a bowl of cereal and joined the other two women sitting atop the counter. It'd been such a long time since any of them had last had some milk. They'd run out of it just before Briggs' team had arrived at the mall to take them to the research lab. Taking a big bite of the cereal, Nicole chewed for a moment before asking, "How do you think they managed to get fresh milk here after all this time?"

Before either of the others could respond, Briggs spoke out from the vicinity of the garage door. "Felix has a small herd of goats down by the stables. He's been milking them for years, I'm surprised you didn't notice them down there yesterday." She walked into view, CJ and Cowboy along side her. The three of them had communications equipment on, the transmitters around their necks and earpieces in their ears, as well as pistol belts strapped around their waists. Each still carried a rifle slung over their shoulder, the total effect,  
especially since Briggs and Cowboy were now clad in civilian clothes, made them look like guerrilla fighters.

Monica looked at them speculatively for a moment. "What are you two, the Bobbsey Twins or something? she asked, gesturing towards Briggs and Cowboy. They were both dressed similarly in black concert tees, Rammstein and the Rolling Stones respectively, and faded blue jeans. Combat boots finished the look.

"Or something," Cowboy replied, spotting the pot of coffee somebody had brewed and gravitating towards it.

"You two seem like you're joined at the hip sometimes. Of course, now that you've got CJ tagging along you look like you're more into threesomes," Monica smiling. Ana and Nicole almost choked on their cereal over her remark.

"Oh Monica, that's wrong on so many more levels than you even realize," Briggs said. Almost smiling, she added, "Almost as wrong as, oh, I don't know, a woman who willingly sleeps with a guy like Steve maybe."

"Touché."

Worried that the war of words might break into something more serious, Ana sought to change the subject. "So Sergeant Briggs, any idea how many of us are leaving this afternoon?"

"Sixteen for sure so far," Briggs replied, searching through the cupboards for something to eat. At last she seemed to locate what she was looking for, a hidden stash of Pop Tarts. "Good old Catalina, I knew I could count on you," she muttered.

"Damn, are those the S'mores ones?" asked Cowboy. Briggs smiled, tossing a package to him.

"CJ?" she asked, holding up a package and then tossing it his way as he nodded.

"You two act like a couple of kids in a candy store," Ana commented, smiling.

"We're chocoholics, normally we've got a hidden stash no matter where we go," Cowboy supplied, smiling. "My weakness is Twix Bars, hers are peanut M&M's."

"And you've made it this long without any, I'm impressed," Monica smirked.

"Oh we've got stashes, they just wouldn't be secret or hidden if we told you where," Cowboy said grinning. He pulled three mugs down from a cupboard and began filling them with coffee.

"Damn, you guys really eat stuff like this all the time?" CJ asked as he took a bite of the Pop Tart and was almost overpowered by the sweetness of it. The look on his face caused Briggs and Cowboy to smile.

"Nah," Cowboy said, "Only when we don't have any Twix Bars or M&M's handy. How do you take your coffee CJ?"

"Black."

"Okay kids, we've got work to do this morning," Briggs said, changing the topic and becoming her usual serious self. She tore a piece of paper off of a note pad before scribbling something down. "Charlie, see if you can get a message through to Uncle Mike. If you talk to him, get the sit-rep for the bunker. If you receive any communications from Dillon, let him know we're heading out and will be incommunicado for an indeterminate amount of time. After that, finish getting the Intel downloaded and then close up shop in the Senator's study. Wipe everything."

"You got it," he said, grabbing up his coffee mug and heading for the door to the hall.

"Who all have said they're leaving today?" Ana asked, returning to her former topic as Cowboy left the room.

"The ten of us on my team," Briggs said, "along with yourself and Monica, CJ, Michael, Kenneth and Terry."

"You can count me in too," Nicole said softly.

"Seventeen it is," Briggs said. "I'll try to contain my excitement. Since you're coming with us, you really shoulda been out at the gates with us last night working on your night firing skills kid," she called as she to grabbed up a coffee mug and exited the kitchen into the garage once more, CJ doing likewise and following behind her.

"That was weird," Ana commented.

"Yea, she was almost friendly there for a few minutes," Monica agreed. "Wonder what brought that on."

"I think she got laid last night," Nicole said, blushing slightly.

"Really?" Monica said, smiling devilishly. She leaned closer to Nicole, always appreciative of new gossip. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well, when I was leaving my room this morning, I kinda saw her come out of her room with CJ," she said quietly.

"That's it? He could have stopped by on his way down the hall or something," Monica said, sounding disappointed.

"Um, he was putting his shirt on and they were kissing and stuff. I'm pretty sure he spent the whole night there," Nicole stammered. Looking around the kitchen she suddenly asked, "Hey, has anyone seen Chips?"

"No, not since last night," Ana told her.

Abandoning her cereal, Nicole hopped from the counter, calling out "Chips! Where are you?" as she left the kitchen.

"That girl is going to drive me nuts with that dog," Monica muttered.

"She's just fixated on him right now," Ana explained. "She's pretty much substituting her affections for her family on the dog. He loves her just as unconditionally as they did."

"Well so does Terry, and he's much less annoying than that walking flea bag," Monica declared.

"It's not the same Monica," replied Ana. "Terry's just a guy, still a kid himself really. With him it's that first puppy love excitement, a distraction away from everything else that's going on around her. With Chips, he's kind of like a security blanket, only with four legs," she smiled.

In the garage, CJ and Briggs climbed aboard two of the quads that they'd loaded up their duffels on earlier, along with Cowboy's gear. Heading off down to the helipads, the twosome were actually enjoying themselves for a few brief moments, racing on the quads. It was a surreal, stolen moment of freedom away from the reality of the world. Cowboy's voice over the radio brought reality back to them.

"Kenny, it looks like we've got some company moving in our direction. I didn't realize the Senator had radar hooked up in here. Anyways, it appears to be a single aircraft approaching the northeast quadrant of the estate, coming in fast."

"Towards the helipads?"

"That's affirmative."

"Shit, it can't be Scarecrow already, it's too soon. I imagine he'd bring a bigger force than a single helicopter could carry."

"Not if it's another Stallion."

"Shit. Me and CJ are on it."

They sped towards the stables, pulling inside the front doors. "Head up into the hay loft, get the window facing the helipad opened up," Briggs told CJ as she hurried towards their waiting helicopters.

"Where in the hell do you think you're going?" CJ yelled over the radio.

"Jesus CJ! You trying to deafen me?" she ground out in reply. "I'm going to get the M82 from the Stallion. If it is Scarecrow's strike force, maybe I can bring the bastard down." After a brief pause Briggs exploded over the radio, "Who the fuck has been messin' with my damn helos!"

"What?" CJ asked in confusion.

"Nevermind, I'll explain later."

The helicopter was just coming into view when Briggs joined CJ in the hay loft. Swiftly getting the M82 into position, and peering through the scope at the aircraft, Briggs said, "Looks like it's an AH-6, probably an advance scout making sure we're here."

"You think they're gonna cause us any problems then?"

"I'm not taking any chances, if they disable that Stallion we're fucked, ain't nobody getting outta here without that. I want to try to bring them down, maybe get one of the crew alive to interrogate."

"If you shoot it down, isn't there a good chance they could crash it into our helicopters anyway?"

"Shit. You're right, they're too close."

"So what now?"

"We wait, see what they do, try and hope for the best that they don't come in for a strafing run."

The AH-6 approached, doing a flyby of the helipad and stables, but not firing.

"Cowboy, any chance they're transmitting and you can pick up what they're saying?"

"That's a Negative Kenny, either they're scrambling the signal or they're maintaining radio silence."

"They're coming in for a landing," Briggs reported over the radio. Turning to CJ she said, "I'm going down below, see if I can't get a couple of prisoners. Cover me."

"Kenny.." he started to say, but she'd already slipped away. "Watch your ass down there," he radioed.

"Affirmative. If you fire, try to keep at least one of them alive, I've got some questions for them."

She crept from the stables slowly, slipping through a door into the fenced goat pen in the rear, overlooking the helipads. Crouching low, she moved along beside the wooded fence, using that and the tall grass which grew beside it for cover. She stopped beside a large 4x4 fence post, pulling her rifle up and peering through the scope, watching as the AH-6 touched down. One door of the helicopter came open and, crouching low, the passenger alit from the aircraft, weapon at the ready. He continued to make his way around the helipad, inspecting the other helicopters for possible threats. At last, he waved an all clear to the pilot who swiftly joined him on the ground.

"Fucking amateurs," Briggs muttered. Moving carefully once more, she made her way to the far corner of the pen where a cluster of Maple trees grew just outside the fence, providing shade for the animals within. Using the trees for cover, she climbed over the fence, dropping almost silently to the ground outside. She moved forward slowly once more, eyes intent upon the two men making their way towards the stable.

"CJ, be ready," she softly said over the radio, "two tangos are heading in your direction." As they moved from view, Briggs left the cover of the trees and sprinted across the open grass until she was once again alongside the rear of the barn. As she reached the corner nearest the helipad she stopped, hearing the two men from the Little Bird talking, making radio contact with their command.

"That's affirmative sir, tell Scarecrow, we've made contact with the terrorists' helicopters, they are indeed in residence at his parents' estate, probably a hostage situation. There's no sign of any guards around the helipad. Yes sir, I'm sure we haven't been spotted, as I said sir, there's no sign of guards or watches of any sort here."

Briggs smiled. So that's how Scarecrow got his scout team, he borrowed them from another stronghold, told them they were hunting down terrorists. Probably blamed this whole outbreak on her team. And these guys were about useless, declaring the area to be secure without doing a full search of the perimeter. It was going to be almost too easy to take them out.

"Kenny," CJ's voice whispered over the radio. "I don't know your location, or if you can already see them, but the crew of that Little Bird are standing almost directly below me. I don't have a clear shot."

The sound of a barking dog suddenly filled the air around them. Briggs felt like pounding her head up against the stable wall. Chips came running full out towards the men barking, the one time he ever went after people. Then Nicole came running across the lawn, "Chips, where are you honey? Chips! Come here boy! There you are, come on honey!"

She spotted the two strange soldiers a second after Chips took off running back to her.

"Halt, stay right where you are," the soldier who'd been on the radio called out. Nicole froze in fear and Briggs made her move. Leaving her rifle behind and pulling out the HK Model 23 pistol instead. Swiftly she stepped out from around the corner, the two soldiers had their backs to her. Raising the pistol she took the one on the right down with a single shot to the back of his head. The one on the left, momentarily distracted by the sound of the shot and the sight of his partner collapsing behind him was ill prepared for Briggs attack. Pivoting on her right foot, she quickly delivered a spinning heel kick to the second soldier's head, driving it into the side of the stable in the process. He dropped to the ground unconscious. Briggs stooped down to remove the gun and the radio from his reach and then reached out to check his pulse. He would live, at least until she finished with her interrogation anyway.

"Kenny?" CJ's voice came over the radio.

"I'm okay, both of the tangos have been neutralized. Bring the jeep around, we've got a prisoner to interrogate."

Nicole came hurrying to where Briggs stood, Chips right on her heels.

"Briggs, what's happening? Who are these guys," she panted.

"Uninvited guests. Grab me some rope, I want to get this one here tied up before he comes to."

Crouching down beside Chips, Nicole pulled a length of rope from the saddle bags he wore on his back. "You...You killed the other one," she said as she handed the rope over.

"Very astute."

"But that, that's like murder," Nicole stammered.

"No, it's self defense. He was armed and he would have done exactly the same thing to either of us if the situation was reversed," Briggs said, making short work of tying the hands and feet of the unconscious soldier. CJ arrived with the jeep just then, sparing either of them from discussing the situation further.

"Grab his shoulders CJ, let's get him loaded into the back."

"Damn, for a skinny guy he sure weighs a ton," CJ grunted as they lifted him into the back of the jeep.

"Nicole, grab that radio equipment from the ground and load it into the jeep," Briggs called out.

Nicole hesitated for a moment before complying. As she reached for the radio she caught a glimpse of the other soldier. He lay on the ground with his head turned towards her, his eyes already glazed over as he seemed to watch her every move. There was a gaping hole through his forehead where the bullet had exited, the sight was somehow less disturbing to her than those staring eyes. She swallowed hard before grasping the radio and carrying it over to Briggs.

"What now?" she choked out.

"We take this sonuvabitch back up to the house for interrogation," Briggs said. "Can you drive one of the quads back up to the house?"

"No, I've never drove one before."

"Then you ride shotgun in the jeep with CJ, keep your eye on this one in case he comes to," Briggs told her. Looking over to CJ she said, "I'll meet you up at the house."

The interrogation began a scant twenty minutes later.

"So, Smith is it?" Cowboy asked the helicopter pilot who was now bound to a chair in the Senator's study.

"Smith. John M. Warrant Officer. 254-94-2101," the pilot replied.

"Smith it is," Cowboy said. "Now, why don't you tell us who sent you here."

The pilot quoted his name, rank and social again, refusing to say anything more. Briggs shook her head, this was taking too long, costing precious time for their departure, and allowing Scarecrow the opportunity to move closer. It was time to try a new tactic, a little 'good cop, bad cop.'

"So seeing as how you're such a dumb ass as to make radio contact with your command, before making sure the area was secured that is," Briggs said to goad him, earning a dark look from the bound pilot, "I gather that the Scarecrow must have radioed your command. Probably fed them a line of shit, calling us terrorists most likely."

Watching his reaction, Briggs took a seat on the couch, casually leaning back. It was only the pilot, Briggs, Cowboy, CJ and Michael in the study, the others having been locked outside to keep them from interfering. Although she imagined the rest of them were probably waiting just outside the door trying to hear what was happening.

Briggs continued, "Now, this being the case, your presence here is presumably because Scarecrow got nervous. He probably figured that by this point someone from our command had tipped us off that he was on his way with a strike force. And I suppose when you saw our helicopters, with no guards in sight, you got stupid. Stupid people decide to do stupid things like some sabotage work, on your own, to insure we can't fly out before Scarecrow arrives. Hell, he's a big name in political circles, has a little bit of Black Ops mystery attached to the name, you probably figured it would be a nice little coup for you to impress him. Help capture the so-called terrorists that let loose the plague." She rose from the couch then, slowly pacing a circle around the bound pilot, avoiding the curious looks of CJ and Michael.

"So am I getting warm, Smith?" Briggs asked, stopping close to his side, but just out of his line of vision.

"Go to hell," he answered.

"I'm already there."

"Look man, we're just trying to get through this mess alive," Michael said suddenly. "Can't we work together on this? There's few enough of us left as it is."

"I don't cooperate with terrorists," Smith said angrily.

Briggs laughed harshly. "But that's just what you're doing by helping Scarecrow. Only you're too dumb to realize it."

"Bullshit," he replied.

Briggs resumed her pacing for a moment before speaking. "See Smith, this brings us to the crux of our problem. You have information that I want, and whether you're willing to believe me or not when I say we're innocent, every minute you delay, is another minute you're buying for the assholes that started this plague. It's a minute closer to Scarecrow's arrival. So, the way I see it, we can do things in one of two ways." She stopped her pacing, standing before him. There was a long moment of silence.

"What's that?" he finally asked, unable to bear her cold, silent stare.

"The first way is the easy way for you. I ask you a question and you give me an honest answer. We do this until I know what I need to know, and then I leave and you're free to relax in the lap of luxury here until Scarecrow arrives to return you to your post."

"And the second option?"

"That's the easy way for me," Briggs said, a grim smile touching her face causing the pilot to swallow hard. "This one goes something like this, I ask you a question. If you don't answer, or I think you're bullshitting me," she hefted her HK Model 23, "I put a bullet in you. We'll start with your ankles for the first two wrong answers, then we'll move up to your knees. Plenty of joints to hit from there up, although usually it doesn't take but two shots before somebody sees the light and starts talking."

"Briggs, you can't be serious," Michael said.

"Unless you want your ass booted from the room, you'll be quiet," Briggs told him.

Cowboy spoke up, "Let me suggest you take option one Smith. Easier on everyone that way, you'll save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain. They don't call her the Wraith for nothing."

That caught the pilot's attention. "The Wraith is just another legend, a Black Ops myth. He doesn't really exist. Just like the Holy Trinity," he said nervously.

"He most certainly does exist," Briggs said stiffly, "only he is a she. And the Holy Trinity, three Black Ops specialists, acting as judge, jury and executioner." She leaned down close, looking Smith in the eyes with a cold stare. "Scarecrow the judge, Cowboy the Jury, and Wraith the executioner. There's always some truth in a good myth." Standing, she gave the pilot a wicked smile as she brandished the HK Model 23.

The pilot turned ashen. "You're not serious, you can't be."

Michael started to speak again, but CJ grabbed his arm, shaking his head a negative. "You'll just make things worse," he whispered quickly.

"We can't let her do this!" Michael hissed in reply.

"Just give her a minute more, if she tries anything we'll stop her," CJ whispered back, silently hoping against hope that it wouldn't be necessary.

"Wanna find out Smith?" Briggs asked. He shook his head. "So," she drawled, cocking her weapon, "which option is it going to be then."

"I can't tell you anything," he said at last. "They'll kill me if I do."

"And I'll kill you if you don't. Your choice. What's it going to be?" she asked, once more staring him in the eyes.

"If I tell you what you want to know, you have to take me with you when you go," he pleaded.

"Deal. Now who sent you?"

"It's like you said, Scarecrow contacted my command. Told them he was out hunting down the terrorists responsible for turning loose the plague. He said that you knew he was hunting you and that you were holding his parents hostage here at their estate. He asked if we could send a recon patrol out to verify you hadn't flown the coop yet, try to get an estimation on troop strength."

"Why'd you set down? You could have done all that safely in the air."

"My co-pilot got cocky, said if we sabotaged your helos, kept you from being able to lift off, we could make a name for ourselves after all this was over. We'd be given credit for helping to take down your team, be something like national heroes."

"Where's your command located?"

"We appropriated a ski resort in Aspen after our post fell."

"And where was Scarecrow's last known position?"

"Somewhere between Poplar Bluff and Springfield, Missouri as of yesterday afternoon sometime."

"For the record, if I was holed up here with his parents for hostages, why would he have to worry about me taking off?" Briggs said at last.

Smith looked down. "I guess we didn't really think any of that through, we just took him at his word. Like you said, he's a big name."

Briggs nodded and turned towards her companions. "Bring Zach and Dennis in here for a minute Michael."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Michael said, still unsure whether or not Briggs was going to go nuts and kill the guy tied to the chair.

"It's okay Michael, I'm not as crazy as I sound sometimes. I just want to make a point to Mr. Smith here," she told him. He stared at her for a moment before finally moving to the door. A few moments later he returned, ushering the two boys in front of him.

"Smith, this is Dennis and Zach. We airlifted them out Kansas City, they were trapped inside their apartment. Do they look like terrorists to you?" Briggs asked. When the pilot didn't answer she continued, "We picked up CJ and Michael here along with a group of civilians that had barricaded themselves into a shopping mall in Everett, Wisconsin. How about them? Do they look like terrorists?"

"No," Smith finally answered.

"This is the kind of people that make up better than half of my team. Just so you know what you're dealing with in case you've lied to me at all. It's not a bunch of soldiers who'll suffer for it." She turned towards the door, "CJ, cut him loose."

As Briggs walked to the door, Michael grabbed her arm, drawing her to a halt. "Wait, all that drama, the threats about killing him, and that's all the information that you wanted from him?" he asked incredulously.

Briggs smiled. "No. That was a little psychological mind game. I threatened him, and he found out my questions weren't too bad afterall. He didn't have to go into too much detail, shit, nothing he said except for the location of his HQ and Scarecrow's last known whereabouts was any kind of major information, none of itwould get him killed. Letting us get away, now that would be a different story."

"So what was the point of all that then?"

"You'll see."


	35. Destinations

_Dawn was slowly rising, the little girl sat crying beside a fallen log. She'd been dragged from her bed in the middle of the night by her father. He'd been ranting about the bad people who were coming for them. They'd run for hours, leaving their trailer behind. He'd dragged her through an abandoned industrial park and off into the woods just outside of town. Finally, he'd abandoned her about an hour ago, admonishing her to stay inside of the log until he returned for her, she was just slowing him down too much right now. She pleaded with him to take her with him, but it was to no avail. He'd pushed her inside the rotted out log, and with a final warning to keep quiet, disappeared into the woods._

_So now she sat, her back to the log he left her in, looking at the shredded mess that were her feet. Blood flowed from dozens of small cuts, the sight made her cry even harder than before. If only they hadn't run by those abandoned old factories, the glass from their busted out windows littering the ground below. That's where the worst of her injuries came from, she could still feel shards of the window panes lodged inside some of the cuts. If only her Daddy had let her stop and put her shoes on, she thought miserably._

_It felt as if hours had gone by while she cried. At last, there were no more tears to cry, and she sat quietly, the occasional sniffle breaking the stillness around her as she took a look at her surroundings. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she laid her head upon her knees and said a silent prayer that her Mom would come back down from heaven and save her. A twig snapped off in the distance behind her, startling the girl. "Daddy?" she called out questioningly. "Daddy are you here?"_

_No answer came. As the light began getting brighter around her, she thought once more about searching for her father. He'd told her to stay, that he'd come back for her, but he hadn't really been himself since her mother had died. Looking up at the sky once more, the girl pulled together all her courage, climbing to her feet and moving away from the tree, limping painfully on her sorely abused feet. She moved towards the spot where she'd heard the twig snap, only it was the sound of rustling leaves came from ahead of her now. "Daddy?" she called nervously, beginning to regret leaving the safety of the log._

_The rustling continued in front of her, seeming to move closer to her, as another twig snapped. Suddenly a large, hulking figure appeared before her eyes, slowly emerging from the shadows of the trees. It moved towards her, not really looking like a man, but not an animal either. The girl cried out in fear and bolted off through the trees, crying out, "Daddy! Daddy where are you? Help me Daddy!" The creature followed behind, earnestly crashing through the forest behind her..._

Briggs jerked awake, sitting up swiftly and looking wildly about her surroundings for a moment before she remembered where she was, sitting atop a Holiday Inn in the middle of El Paso. She relaxed her grip on the weapon she didn't remember grabbing before pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on them for a moment. CJ's voice spoke softly from behind, startling her. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

Whirling towards the sound of his voice, she shook her head no, then resumed her earlier position, staring out into the night deep in thought. It had been two long days since they'd left the estate behind them. They'd been pushing it hard, harder than she'd ever pushed them before. They'd stopped only once before this night, and that had been for fuel. Caroline had stayed behind along with Helga and Felix, plus Chrissy had chosen to stay behind as well. In truth, Chrissy had been too drunk to make much of a decision about it either way. For better or worse the rest of them had opted to come with what was left of the soldiers. The pilot, Smith, had been left behind as well, afterBriggs hadfinished her interrogation and gotten the information she'd wanted from him, he wasn't overly interested in accompanying them. He was in too many pieces outside of the fence to be interested in much of anything.

"Are you still thinking about this afternoon?" CJ asked, breaking into her thoughts again. "It wasn't your fault you know."

"That's not what I was thinking about, but thanks for reminding methat I should be. I could have planned for it better, we cameclose tolosing more people because of me," she said quietly.

"We aren't going to get anywhere without those helicopters," CJ reasoned. "We did what we had to do."

"Maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"If I hadn't insisted on flying the Little Bird off of the estate, then we wouldn't have run into the problems we had fueling. It would have been a straight shot in and out with watches around the perimeters of the helos, and two fuel men. Having the two-seater along means pulling more people off the other two helicopters for watches and fueling, it limits the amount of time we have to get people back on board before the shit hits the fan," she complained.

"We'll just have to adapt how we handle our refueling strategy. Not to change the subject or anything, but that was an organized attack they did, wasn't it?"

"Yea, it's like I said, they're learning. They're not just moving blindly like herds of cattle following their leader anymore, that's why the extra bird means more of a risk to us every time we set down."

"Maybe we should talk with the others about it," CJ suggested. "Put it to a vote or something. For the record though, if your friend really is coming after us, I personally think having an attack helicopter along for the ride is worth the extra risk. It kinda levels the playing field a little bit."

Briggs let out a humorless chuckle. "Put it to a vote. You're not getting all democratic on me now CJ, are you?" she asked, causing him to turn red.

"I just think you need to start letting the rest of us in on some of the decision making," he replied. "This isn't just a military operation anymore, we're all in it together. And you're taking way too much on yourself."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "All right, we'll try things your way. For now," she stressed. "Things start falling to pieces, and I'm taking back my command. I don't give a rats ass if this isn't a military operation and I come off as sounding like a dictator. Besides, as I remember it, the president declared marshal law before the televisions and radios went down," she smiled. "So I have every right to assume command. For the record," she said, parroting his own words.

"Okay, I can accept that. So what now?"

"Get everyone together, we're gonna have a little chat after I contact my superiors," she said as she rose to her feet.

"Yes ma'am," he said, causing her to take a mock swing at him.

"And don't call me that, I work for a living. Go let everyone know, meeting, south side of the roof in twenty minutes," she said. Turning she walked in the opposite direction, towards the communications equipment she and Cowboy had set up after they'd landed on the deserted rooftop.

"I need to talk to Dillon," she said to the soldier who answered the transmission. "Tell him it's Wraith." Moments later, the slightly disheveled face of her superior appeared on the screen.

"It's about time you called in," he reprimanded. "What's your location and status?"

"Taking a vacation with the kids and enjoying margaritas on the beach Blake, what the fuck do you think my status is?" she shot back. "As for my location, I'm heading sortasouthish right now, that may or may not change, and we'rerelocating to what I hope will prove to be a relatively secure facility. I plan on setting up shop there for awhile."

"Where are you now?"

"Classified."

"Dammit, as your superior I'm ordering you to give me your current location," he ground out.

"We checked in to the Holiday Inn, although I definitely can't give it more than a single star rating. Any other details besides that and I'll have to reiterate, it's classified," she said emotionlessly. "See, I had an enlightening chat with one of Scarecrow's people the other day, learned some interesting information about some of the connections our little lost sheep has, especially in places I hadn't expected. Until I'm absolutely sure of who it is I can trust I'm not revealing my location to anyone, even you."

"You realize I can just trace your transmission," he said.

"Yea, I thought about that," she said thoughtfully. "That's why I liberated Kelmsley's scrambler from his communications relay before we left, and even if I hadn't, there isn't anyone close enough to reach us before we disappear again."

"You little bitch."

She smiled, "Yea, it's a technique I learned it from the best. I'll be in touch Blake. In the meantime, if you are on my side, do me a favor and don't look for me. Keep an eye out for the president too,Unit 8 seems to be thriving right now. This would bea prime opportunity for them to try eliminating the competition. You might want to clean house in your own department too, at least what's left of it. Out." She terminated the connection before he could say anything. Sighing, she scrubbed her hands across her face, willing herself to face the rest of the group as she rose to her feet again.

When she reached the opposite end of the roof, the others had already gathered together, and were just waiting for her arrival.

"What exactly is 'Uncle Mike's?' That's what I want to know for starters," Michael said, pushing his way to the front of the group to stand beside Kenneth. CJ had obviously done his part filling them in on the purpose of the meeting.

"Uncle Mike was a buddy of my Father's back in 'Nam," Briggs said. "He was kind of like a father figure to me after...well, he was like a father to me. Anyways, he got together with some of the others guys they served with, came up with a business plan. Somehow they managed to get the cash together to buy an island, probably with a little help from the VA. They were in the process of turning it into a resort, something that would cater to both the spring break crowd and the yuppies trying to get in touch with their inner- Jimmy Buffett."

"What makes you think this island is gonna be safe?" asked Kenneth.

"Well...for one thing, they weren't open for business yet. They used up almost all of their money buying the place, so they ended up doing the bulk of the construction work themselves, hiring some of the locals in the area to help out. Needless to say it was a slow moving process. I figure there was maybe a handful of people on the island when the virus was released, probably ten at the most. With that in mind, there's a good chance that nobody on the island was infected."

"So we don't even know for sure if this place is actually safe then. That's what you're saying isn't it?" Roger inquired.

"Pretty much. I can't tell you with absolute certainty that the island's clear," she admitted. "But, all things considered, I think it's the best shot we've got to get out of the war zone for awhile. Unless someone else has been holding out on us of course."

Ignoring her comment, Kenneth replied, "That's all well and good, but you're still leaving out one very important fact."

"What's that?" Cowboy asked, moving to Briggs' side.

"Where exactly is this mystery island located?"

Briggs and Cowboy looked at each other for a moment. "That's the tricky part, it's off the coast of Costa Rica," Cowboy said.

"Jesus Christ!" burst Fran. "It may as well be on the moon for all the good it's going to do us."

"That is a pretty good distance to travel," Michael said hesitantly.

Briggs smiled. "Well, unless you have some place else in mind, that's our choice. I'm sure we all want to get out of places like this," she gestured around them. "The way I see it, this is our best chance. We can't just fly aimlessly around indefinitely."

"Why not? It's worked for you so far hasn't it?" asked Tom.

"Not really, we've had places to hole up, get rested. Plus fuel is definitely going to become an issue sooner or later, you saw that for yourselves this afternoon," Briggs pointed out.

"The way they attacked us," Kenneth murmurred thoughtfully.

"And Fran can't keep flying forever either," Peter said.

"Well then I think we should leave behind that extra helicopter," Tom declared. "It's one less think to have to guard when they come after us."

"No fuckin' way," Kenneth said. "We don't know what else besides those things are out there waiting for us. Pain in our ass or not, we need that machine."

"I'm with Kenneth," CJ told them.

"Yea, well, we already knew that you'd agree with anything your girl over there tells you to say," Steve added. "Maybe we should just leave her behind and then we won't have to worry about anyone but those things coming after us."

"How do you figure that Steve?" Briggs inquired. "Even if you left me behind on this roof, how's the strike force supposed to know that? They'll still shoot you out of the sky faster than you can blink."

"She's right," Peter said. "So unless anyone has a better idea of where we should go, I suggest we start coming up with a plan to make it to Costa Rica."

"What about this, we shoot the bitch here and now, and then have her boy over there send a message over the radio that she's gone," Steve said, glaring at Briggs.

"Enough of the testosterone Steve," Briggs said, exasperated. "How about I toss your body over the side of the roof and we see if there's anything left for those little fucks to chew on?"

"Stop it! Both of you!" hollered Dennis, drawing everyone's attention to where he stood.

"Haven't enough people died already without you guys trying to kill each other too?" he asked. There was a long, silent pause following his outburst.

"We leave at first light," Briggs said, the first to speak. "We'll cross over into Mexico, I know where there's a couple of out of the way airfields where we may be able to fuel up. After that, we'll follow along the coast the whole way."

"What about fuel after we get out of Mexico?" asked Michael.

"It's going to be a little more tricky, but not impossible. I know of at least two locations,suspected drug cartels, that we were monitoring for possible terrorist ties with Afghanistan, guns for drugs and that kind of thing. Both of them aren't too far in from the coast area, and both have their own private airfields. Nothing but big clearings in the middle of the jungle, so we should be able to use them to our advantage. Any other questions?"

"Yea," Steve said. "Do you really think this hair-brained scheme of yours is going to work?"

"I wouldn't even be trying it if I didn't think it would work," she replied. "Now, does anyone have any intelligent questions?"

"These airfields, won't they be under guard?" Kenneth asked.

"I don't know. If there's anyone left there alive, probably. But if that's the case, and they are, we'll deal with it when the time comes," Briggs responded.

"What about food, supplies, and that kind of thing?" Roger asked.

"Unknown. But, knowing Mikey, there's plenty to go around."

"What about medical supplies?" Fran called out, hand resting on her protruding stomach.

"Well, I don't think there'll be any kind of first class surgical suite or anything, but it should get by for giving birth."

"But there won't be any epidurals, and what if there's some kind of complications?" the soon-to-be mother pressed.

"Come on Fran, we've got two medical professionals here for you, the rest of it isn't necessary. Women have been having babies for thousands of years without epidurals, you'll be all right."

Fran looked unconvinced but remained silent. Ana walked forward and squeezed her hand, saying softly, "She's right Fran, Tom and I will be able to help you when the time comes." Fran nodded, acknowledging her words.

"Look, it's late," Cowboy said. "Why don't we try to get a few more hours of sleep before sun-up. Terry, Jones take the watch."

An hour later the roof top was silent. Terry and Jones each stood guard by one of the two fire escapes that lead to the roof top, most of the others had chosen random locations on the roof to sleep. Nicole silently approached Terry.

"You've hardly said two words to me since we left that house Terry, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asked without preamble.

"Nothing."

"Then why won't you talk to me!"

"I'm busy right now, can't this wait until after we take off tomorrow?" he asked.

"Terry, if this is about Zachary," she started to say.

"Why would this have anything to do with him? Just because you disappear with him all night and then blow me off ever since. I've got more important things to think about than that," he said angrily, turning his back on her and facing the parking lot below.

"It's not what you think Terry, we were painting the helicopters, that's all."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said again, refusing to turn back and face her.

Nodding her head, even though his back was to her, Nicole turned and began retreating back towards her sleeping bag next to Fran. A hand suddenly encircled her forearm. "I figured it was you."

Nicole turned in wide-eyed shock and saw Briggs looking at her. "You figured it was me what ?" she asked nervously.

"That painted my birds. Nice job by the way. So, since you don't seem to be sleeping, I have a little job for you to do," Briggs said, a sly smile touching her face.

"What kind of job?"

Briggs smiled again, indicating a bag slung over one of her shoulders. Nicole recognized it as the duffel bag she and Zachary had filled with spray paint a few nights before. Briggs placed an arm around Nicole's shoulders and quietly began telling her what she had in mind as they walked towards the Little Bird.


	36. Flying Time

They had gone airborne just after sunrise, moving steadily along on their quest for Costa Rican airspace and the island that awaited them. It was unusually quiet on board the three aircraft, even Steve seemed to have temporarily run out of his endless string of complaints. The helicopters all sported graffiti artwork of Nicole's now, as well as names supplied by Briggs. The Blackhawk had been christened 'Bad Company' while the Stallion carried the name 'Herzeleid' the title of one of Briggs' favorite Rammstein songs. The Little Bird that Briggs now flew was dubbed 'Eve of Destruction.' Most importantly, as far asthe good Sergeantwas concerned, all of their outer markings had been obliterated. She'd personally crawled beneath each helicopter and blanked out those on the under bellies of the machines. It wasn't a perfect solution, but hopefully it would make recognition of the aircraft a little more difficult to anyone on the ground. 

Briggs had taken the lead in the Little Bird, the other two helicopters were spread out and formed a vee behind. She was keeping them fairly low to the ground, low enough to be able to see any movement below. It was her reason for wanting to take out the markings, in case there was someone left alive.

"It really has spread everywhere, hasn't it?" CJ said, gesturing below.

"That's what all the initial reports indicated. All those tourists, businessmen...why let a silly little thing like a human bite keep them from getting on a plane and going about their merry business? After that it was only a matter of timebefore the virus gestated, killed the host and reanimatedits corpse. Simple."

"You'd at least think it would have been isolated enough to stop it though," mused CJ. "I mean, people just don't go around biting each other like that. If it started in the US we should have been able to contain it there. I guess I still kinda hoped that that would be what happened."

"Those people,whoever they were, theyprobably weren't even exhibiting any symptoms when they hopped a plane home," replied Briggs. "By the time they were starting to get sick, they probably would have sought medical help. Doctors would have admitted them to the hospital, and when they died and turned it would have been open season. Probably spread like wildfire after that."

"What about security guards? Wouldn't they have been called to put them down?" argued CJ.

"So tell me rent-a-cop, when the mall hired you for security, did they tell you to handle situations with deadly force?"

CJ blushed sheepishly. "Not hardly. I'm amazed they gave us guns at all to be honest. For the most part we were supposed to rely on mace and harsh language," he laughed. "The only reason I know how to handle a gun at all is because my old man taught me when I was a kid. We used to go out hunting together every year, it was the only time I ever really saw him sober."

"I think I would have preferred my dad as a drunk, maybe he would have been a little easier to deal with," Briggs said.

"How do you mean?"

"Vietnam really left him screwed up. Post traumatic stress disorder, that's what they like to call it nowadays. He'd be fine for awhile, just a little on edge, but nothing major. Then something would happen that would just send him into a tailspin. He'd disappear for days on end into the woods, reliving his Vietnam days. After my Mom got killed in a car wreck though, he was never the same."

"Is that what the dreams are all about?"

"A little bit. Now my subconscious mind is starting to add those creatures into the mix. Just like that," she snapped her fingers, "I'm a terrified five year old lost in the woods again. And it's not something I like to talk about either, so, uh, can we please just drop this subject?" she asked.

"Okay, not a problem. Just tell me one thing," he said.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just how in the hell are you and Cowboy related? Marshall said you used to be married, but I know that that's bullshit."

"Oh major bullshit," she grinned. "Charlie's my half brother. In between tours in 'Nam, my dad would come back to the states on leave and just roam since he didn't have any family to come back to. He'd hook up with random women in bars and that would be that. It was sometime in October of '74 that he was on leaveandmet up with Cowboy's mother,they were both drunkand the rest is history. A few nights later, same story with my mother. He'd already shipped out, back to the Embassy in Saigon before eitherwoman realized they were pregnant. Charlie's mom took it pretty well, she was already married, and her husband was willing to claim that Charlie was his, so it worked out. My mom now, she was only seventeen, so her parents were less than thrilled. They started hunting down my dad as soon as they figured out she was knocked up and got her to spill his name to them. After Saigon fell, my dad finished out his service and left the Marines. My grandparents finally tracked him down and my parents got married. End of story."

"How did you and Cowboy meet? You two talk like you grew up together."

"Well, after my parents got married, my Dad went through about 5 different jobs in six months, he just couldn't hold down a steady job that didn't involve shooting rifles, so he decided he'd re-enlist in the Corp."

"So Cowboy's dad was in the Marines too?"

"Nah, Army. The Marines only wanted my dad back in a training position. Show the future generation of snipers how to get the job done and shit. Dad wasn't having any of that, he wanted to be in the field, so he gave up the rank he would have had and started from scratch in the Army, went with an Infantry MOS. We spent the next four years traveling, Ft. Hood, Texas. Ft. Drum, New York. Then we ended up in Wuerzburg, Germany and that's where we met Charlie's family. We lived in the same housing area, and his mom did child care out of their apartment."

"So your parents hired Charlie's mom to baby-sit you? That's some crazy shit."

"My parents didn't know about Charlie at the time, and his mom didn't put two and two together until the day my dad picked me up from daycare. Trust me, you can't look at Charlie and my dad without knowing that they're father and son, even when Charlie was only a few years old."

Before CJ could respond, the radio crackled to life. "Kenny, you got a location for me," Cowboy's voice came over the headsets.

"Affirmative. We're about a half hour due north of Chihuahua, once we reach the city, we're going to change our heading a bit and start moving to southeast. There's an airfield just north of Maravillas that I think we can use."

"Maravillas? That's going to be pushing it to make it there before nightfall, don't you think?" he responded.

"If we can maintain our current airspeed, it might be close, but we don't have much of a choice. We'll just push through and hope for the best. There aren't too many big cities between Chihuahua and Monterey for us to make use of. Leastwise, nothing with buildings big enough to support all three helicopters on their rooftop."

"I hope you know what you're doing. Maybe we should just stop for the night in Chihuahua, head out again at first light."

"Nah, we'd lose too much travel time. I want to get as far across Mexico as we can today. Keep your ears open for any chatter on the radio, you never know if we're going to come across a live bunch anywhere."

"You got it. Out."

"So what's this big rush of yours to get through Mexico?" CJ asked, curiously.

"I only know of two more airfields beyond Maravillas that we should be able to make use of, one of them is almost an hour south of Monterey, the other is just outside of Oaxaca. The rest of the way we'll be playing by ear."

"Those are some pretty long stretches to go between fuelings, are you sure we can make it?"

"No, which is why we're pushing on, to make sure that we can make it."

"I have told you that you're nuts, right?" he asked, only half joking.

"Yep. Story of my life," she told him, smiling. "So what the hell, how about we live real crazy. Want to learn how to fly this bitch?"

"What?... Me?... Fly a helicopter?...You're not serious?" CJ asked in horror.

"Yea, it's a piece of cake, no worries. Here, take the controls."

"Hey uh, Cowboy, either Briggsy just fell asleep at the wheel or those two are trying to join the mile high club up there. They're all over the sky," Masters said over the radio, laughing the whole time. He continued to watch as the AH-6 pitched wildly in the sky for a moment before leveling off once more.

Cowboy's laughter came in reply. "My vote's on her trying to teach her rent-a-cop how to fly that thing."

"I like my theories better," Masters said. They continued to talk between themselves, making jokes and discussing the flight plan to Costa Rica.

In the rear of the Stallion, scattered conversations were also starting to take place.

"Do you really think we're going to be able to make it to this mysterious island that that Sergeant lady was talking about?" Zachary asked Michael.

"Yea, there's a good chance we'll make it there all right," Michael responded. "As long as we can find places to fuel up we'll be fine." He smiled.

"If anyone can get us there Briggs can do it," Dennis declared.

Rolling his eyes at his little brother, Zachary replied, "What would you know Denny? You're just a dumb kid, I don't even know why we bothered to bring you along."

"Not so dumb," Dennis said, nonplused. "I'm the one she taught to shoot, not you."

"Because I can take care of myself," boasted Zachary.

"Zachary, I swear, if you say one more word I'm gonna kick your ass," Terry said angrily. "Dude, how the fuck can you set here and be so goddamn mean to your own brother? You're the dumb one if you can't realize how lucky you are to have at least someone in your family here with you, to know that they're alive...You fucking make me sick."

Angrily he moved as far away from the others as he could. Chips followed, curling up beside him and resting his head on Terry's leg. Absently the teen scratched at the dog's ears, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the thoughts that had been plaguing him for the last several days, what had happened to his family. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it, even in all the time they'd spent at the mall. At the research lab he'd been too afraid about what was going to happen to them, there hadn't been time to think of his family. But ever since they'd picked up Zachary and Dennis things had changed.

"Terry...Do you feel like talking?" Nicole asked quietly, hesitantly.

"Not really, but I don't suppose you're going to leave me alone until we do," he said sourly.

"Terry, I'm sorry aboutthat night I disappearedwith Zachary, nothing happened," Nicole said quickly. "We were just painting the helicopters, that's all."

"I don't care about that Nicole."

"But...but if that's not what's bothering you...Well, what is?" she asked in surprise.

"Ever since we picked up Dennis and Zach, I don't know, I've just been thinking about my family more, wondering what happened to them. I keep trying to tell myself that maybe some of them made it out besides me, but deep down I know everyone's dead and it's hard. Dennis reminds me of my little brother, Matthew, and that just seems to make it worse."

"So why are you ignoring me than? You could have talked to me about this any time," insisted Nicole. Terry remained silent a moment, looking down at Chips. Nicole reached out and grasped his hand, drawing his attention back to her.

"Don't think this has anything to do with you Nicole," he said at last. "But Zachary kind of reminds me of myself, back when I was his age."

"You're nineteen Terry, you're not that old," Nicole giggled nervously. Terry looked away again, pulling his hand away as he did.

"Well I feel a lot older," he told her so softly she had to lean in to hear him. "And I look at those two kids and it makes me think of my own life, and everything I've lost. I don't know, it just doesn't even seem real to me any more. It's only been few months, and my whole life seems like a dream. That is what's bothering me."

"Oh Terry.."

"Do you mind Nicole, I really don't feel like talking anymore," Terry said. He turned his face away from her, but not before she saw the tears forming in his eyes.

"Yea, I'll just move back up with the others," she replied. Swiftly she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm here for you, if you want to talk about it some more, or if you just need someone to talk to about anything," she told him before moving away.

A few hours later they began approaching an airfield. Briggs declared that this would be where they'd stop for fuel. They began anxiously scouring the ground below for any signs of the living and the living dead. It appeared to be clear, but unlike the places they'd landed back in the States, this one didn't have any sort of fence to keep them from being swarmed.

"Briggs, you sure this is where you want to fuel up?" radioed Masters.

"You see any better options out there?" she replied.

"I don't know Kenny, this isn't looking so good," Cowboy added.

"Smooth and by the numbers guys, we should all be able to land and fuel up all three birds at the same time. Have your teams ready to disembark and take position around the aircraft. Cowboy, I'm gonna need somebody from the Stallion to play fuel man for my Bird. Communications equipment for everyone," Briggs ordered.

"You're the boss Sarge," Masters replied, doubt lacing his voice.

"I hope you're right Kenny," Cowboy told her.

"Me too Bro."

They made their final approach.

"At least the pumps are out in the open, nothing for those dumb fucks to hide behind," Masters said.

"Just keep it calm and remember, by the numbers," Briggs said.

The helicopters touched down, the fueling teams leaping from the machines.

"Here goes nothing," CJ said, grabbing his weapon and climbing from the helicopter to stand watch.

"Yea, nothing," muttered Briggs as she reached for a pair of field glasses and began scouring the landscape around them. They'd been on the ground nearly fifteen minutes when the call came over the radio.

"Jesus Christ! Do you hear that? It's louder than the fucking rotors!" Cowboy called out.

The sound of moaning filled the air outside the helicopters, becoming steadily louder. At last, emerging over the rise of a hill to the south, a mob of the dead came into view.

"Holy shit there's got to be thousands of them," Michael said over the radio. In horror, they watched them move steadily closer. Briggs waited a few moments longer, the things were maybe a thousand yards away.

"Everybody get your asses back on board whatever bird is closest. Now!" she commanded.

The fueling teams ran for the doors, their movements exciting the zombies to a frenzied pitch. A few of the deadstill had the ability to move fast, sprinting ahead of the others. Jones and Kenneth turned, firing head shots at the closest of the zombies, buying a couple of extra minutes for the others to get back on board. After hesitating a few seconds longer the two men rushed towards the helicopter doors once more, the crowd behind them now snarling in fury, struggling to move their decaying bodies faster.

"We got all our people?" queried Briggs over the radio as CJ climbed back inside the Little Bird.

"That's affirmative," Cowboy said.

"Roger that," Masters agreed.

"See, I told ya'll it would be simple," said Briggs. She reached for the controls, preparing to lift off, when one of the zombies threw itself into the windowed door to her right. "Shit!" she gritted out, deftly maneuvering the machine off the ground swiftly, realizing as she did that one of the stubborn creatures still clung to the landing skid.

"Kenny, you seem to have picked up one helluva souvenir," radioed Masters who'd taken up position on the right rear side of the AH-6.

"No shit, thanks for update."

"What are we gonna do?" demanded CJ.

"We're gonna drop the extra baggage. Cowboy, Masters hold your course, I'm gonna take care of a little problem," she said, breaking out of formation. She changed their heading, moving straight towards the front of a hangar. "Hold on," she told CJ, bracing herself for the impact. Carefully she dropped their altitude so that the skids were barely two feet above the hangar's roof. The impact of the creature's body on the hangar caused the entire helicopter to shudder for a split second. The zombie itself was ripped in half, it's legs falling harmlessly to the ground below while its torso ended up splattered across half the length of the roof, it's head still snarling as the helicopter flew away.

"So, uh, is that something they teach you in flight school?" CJ asked.

Briggs grinned weakly. "Nah, some things you just have to figure out for yourself. They never offered any classes on defensive flying against zombie hordes."

CJ shook his head. "Thank God for the small things I guess."

She grinned again, reaching for the radio. "Cowboy, Masters we oughta be catching up with you shortly, next stop is Monterey. We'll see if we can find us a place to sleep for the night."

"Yes ma'am," replied Cowboy, grinning to himself. His sister sputtered mock fury over the radio in reply, causing him to laugh all the more. The mood in general was good aboard the helicopters, they were full of fuel and managed to get through it all without losing anybody. On top of that Briggs was willing to stop for the night rather than fly straight through to their next planned fueling sight, elating everyone. Almost one day down in their journey to Paradise.


	37. Trouble

The rest of the flight across Mexico went uneventfully. Each time they stopped for fuel mirroring the first, large roving herds of the creatures showing up just as they were about ready to depart. The zombies they encountered exhibited all different stages of decomposition. Some moved with erratic, slow, stiffened gaits similar to those Peter's group had left behind in Philadelphia. Others sprinted ahead of the pack, possessing incredible speed and reflexes, making Ana shudder as she recalled the sight of Louis racing after her car as she sped away from the home they'd shared. The majority of the dead that they encountered appeared to be nothing more than slow moving piles of bone held together with rotting muscle and sinews. The only thing worse than the sound of their wails was the ever present stench or decaying flesh. Even with the fail safe enzymes of the virus preventing them from decomposing at a natural rate, it was an inevitable fact of life that they would eventually succomb. 

Unbeknownst to the rest of the group, Briggs was carefully recording what they saw transpiring beneath them. The scientist deep down inside her was unable to resist studying these creatures in what could be construed as the 'wild.' They weren't confined to small research labs being sliced open, here you saw their actual behaviorism. They ran the full gamut of what they'd dealt with back in the states, all of them singular in their quest for live human flesh. The creatures showed no interest in the animals that roved the streets alongside of them. With their caretakers gone, packs of dogs roamed the streets of the towns they passed over, hunting together for food.

They spent their last night in Mexico sitting atop a hotel roof in the town of Oaxaca. From their vantage point above, Briggs sat watching the things below through binoculars as they gathered outside the building. Judging from the clothes some of them wore, she figured they must have been tourists at one time.

"After all this time you still find something interesting about watching those things," commented Michael as he walked up behind her.

"The smell is no worse here than it is over by the helicopters," she replied. "And there's no end to what you can learn from studying your enemy."

"Yea, things are getting quite ripe around here," he agreed.

"Some of those things had to have walked for hundreds of miles," she went on as if he hadn't spoke, still staring below.

"What makes you say that?"

"Look at them, look what they're wearing. Some of those girls down there look like they're in bikinis. Sunbathing in the middle of the Apocalypse," she scoffed.

"That still doesn't explain why you think they've walked that far," he told her.

"Here," she said, handing him the field glasses. "See that guy with the goofy straw hat? He's wearing sandals with black socks pulled up to his knees and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt, no self-respecting Mexican that I know of would be caught dead looking like that, he's gotta be a tourist. And over to the left, those girls in the bikinis? Looks like college kids enjoying their summer vacation. Or at least they were anyway, kinda ended on a down note I suspect."

Michael smiled. "I'm sure you're going somewhere with all of this."

"They're dressed for the beach. Do you see a beach around here locally?" she asked pointedly.

"No."

"Exactly."

"But they couldn't have been drawn from that far of a distance for us," he said. "It would have taken them days to reach here, besides that."

"I never said they were here because of us."

"Then why?"

"They're pack hunters, they go where the food is, and in this case their food is us. My guess would be that there has to have been a stronghold around here once, someplace where the living had themselves holed up for awhile. When all these wandering ones arrived, they probably overpowered the defenses, or else the humans made a break for it. Who knows, maybe there's still someone out there alive in this town."

Michael handed her the field glasses again. "We haven't seen any sign of other survivors though. Nothing that would indicate that they've barricaded themselves in anywhere."

"That doesn't mean they don't exist. I haven't actually seen any of our Naval ships out to sea, operational and disease free, but I believe they do exist," Briggs told him. "Do you believe in God, Michael?"

Michael was startle by the unexpected question. "Yea, I guess I do."

"But you've never seen him, does that make you doubt he exists?" she asked. Michael smiled in response. A snarling sound below caught their attention before anything else could be said. Briggs raised the binoculars to her eyes once more. "Well I'll be damned."

"What is it?"

"Dogs."

"Dogs? What about them?" he asked.

"There's a pack of them down there...and they're attacking one of the zombies. Eating it from the looks of things," she responded.

"I've never seen that happen before," Michael said in surprise.

"Dogs are getting hungry, it's been months since they had people around to take care of them. And with the smell of rotting flesh in the air..." she trailed off. "They're reverting back to their true natures."

Michael nodded, looking straight down below them. "They're coming inside the hotel, the zombies," he said after a moment.

"Yea, I saw that earlier when we landed. We're gonna want to make sure that that stairwell door is reinforced before we bed down for the night," she commented. "I'll make sure we keep a watch rotating throughout the night too."

"Sounds like a solid plan. But why did we land here in the first place? If you knew that they could get inside I mean."

"It's the biggest, newest building in town, I didn't have any doubts that it could handle the weight of our birds being parked on top. Besides, I don't think we'll have to worry too much about them getting up here, the watches and what not, that's just a precaution. Anyway, by now those things have probably figured out how to open up the doors to just about everywhere in town, none of these buildings are 100 secure."

"So are you going to tell the others?" he asked.

"Hadn't planned on it, no reason to get people panicked about something we can't control."

"I hope you're right about that," he said doubtfully.

"You can tell them if you want, but we may as well start prepping the ships for take off if you do, I doubt anyone will sleep tonight if they know," she said casually, almost as if they were discussing something as banal as the weather.

"You could be right," he conceded.

"I know I'm right," she said, standing up. "I'm going to go and discreetly have a couple of my men reinforce the stairwell door, why don't you make yourself useful and get the others to help you set up camp for the night. Keep them away from the door as much as possible, the fewer of them that notice what we're doing, the better.

Michael followed through with Briggs' plan, but in the end it didn't matter much. It was some time around 2 a.m. when the pounding started on the other side of stairwell door,accompanied with the fierce snarls and moans of the dead. The two watches on duty at the time, Cook and Tom, stared at the door in horror, gripping their weapons so tightly their knuckles turned white. Tom nearly jumped out of his shoes when Briggs spoke from behind him.

"I was wondering how long it would take them to figure out how to get up to the roof," she said.

"Jesus!" Tom yelped, whirling himself around and taking aim at the sound of her voice. When he realized who it was, he lowered the weapon slightly. "I could have shot you! Goddammit, I could have killed you!" he ranted in a hushed voice.

She reached out and clicked the safety of his rifle to the 'off' position. "Now you could. I hope if those things broke through you'dhave hadenough sense to do that yourself."

Tom's face went ashen. "My god, I could have gotten us all killed," he mumbled to himself.

"Doubtful. That stairwell is probably too narrow for them to get enough leverage to bust that door open. They'll make a lot of noise, but we should be plenty safe until morning," she reassured him.

"Still, I should know better than this..." he trailed off. "I'm an EMT, my job's to save lives."

"True, but I don't think using a rifle has ever been part of your job description," Briggs reasoned.

"Still..."

"Why don't you go get some sleep, I'll finish up your watch," she said. Tom nodded, not even pretending to put up an argument.

"That go for me too, Sarge?" Cook asked hopefully.

"Not unless you can get someone to take your watch," she told him, grinning as she seated herself on the roof, her back up against one of the huge vent shafts protruding at random intervals across the roof top.

"I'll take his watch," Fran's voice called out. The now heavily pregnant woman made her way forward, into the area lighted by their lanterns, slightly waddling as she did.

Briggs eyed her speculatively. "You think you're up for it?"

"Well I doubt I'm going to get any more sleep tonight, I might as well make myself useful," she said, settling herself beside Briggs. Looking over to Cook, Briggs indicated that he could go sleep.

"You don't have to stay over here Fran, I can take care of this by myself," Briggs told her after Cook walked away.

"I'm pregnant Briggs, not useless. Plus, I told you that I can't sleep," she replied. "Besides, I figured this would be my only opportunity to learn what's going on in that mind of yours."

"How so?"

"You seem to have the heartless bitch routine down to a science," Fran commented, bringing a grin to Briggs' face. "But then you do things like take Dennis under your wing, teach him how to shoot guns and then stand up to his drunk of a mother on his behalf, and I suddenly get the impression that maybe you're not as unfeeling as you like people to think."

"You trying to psychoanalyze me Fran?"

"What would you do if I said yes?"

"Warn you that many trained psychiatrists have tried and failed before you," Briggs said casually.

"Why are you always so difficult?"

"It's genetic."

"Bullshit."

Briggs smiled. "Okay then, it's a learned trait, I'm a product of my environment."

"See, you're being difficult again!" Fran said, smiling despite her frustration.

"Yes, but you have to admit, it's a form of entertainment when it's," she looked at her watch, "damn near three in the morning and you're sitting on a rooftop in Mexico listening to dead people pound on a stairwell door."

"How can you be so glib about it all? Those things are winning," Fran said sadly.

"No, they're not winning. They may be in the majority right now, but as long as you and I and the rest of the group are alive, they haven't won."

"But how can you treat it all so casually?" Fran asked.

"I didn't think I was," Briggs responded. "I guess I just handle things differently from the rest of you."

"Don't you care about anything? Anyone?" queried Fran.

"I can count on one hand the number of people that I truly care about," Briggs said, a twinge of regret in her voice as she added, "I'd probably have fingers left over too, come to think about it."

"CJ's one of them, isn't he?"

Briggs looked away, causing Fran to laugh.

"I'm gonna go do a quick walk around the roof, see if I can tell what's going on below," Briggs said, quickly climbing to her feet. She paused a few paces away and turned back to Fran, speaking so quietly the pregnant woman had to strain to hear her over the din. "Yea, CJ's one of them." Then, in the louder, more commanding voice Fran was accustomed to hearing she added, "Just give a shout if those things start to break through that door, otherwise I'll be back in a few."

As the first rays of dawn began lighting the sky, the equipment was loaded onto the waiting helicopters and with one long last look around, the group boarded the helicopters. Moments later they were once more in the air, charting a course towards Guatemala. Most of the passengers hunkered down and slept the first few hours, many of them having been awakened by the zombies in the stairwell during the night. On board the 'Eve of Destruction,' CJ was once more at the controls.

"You know, I really think I'm starting to get the hang of this flying shit," he said proudly, shaking Briggs from her silent musings as she watched the landscape below.

"Oh yea?" she asked.

"Yea, as long as you don't ask me to do anything crazy, like take offs or landings, we should be all right," he declared proudly.

She laughed, surprised at his humor. In truth, he'd taken to flying the little two seater much quicker than she'd thought he would. Admittedly, he wasn't that far off from the truth concerning his landing abilities, those really needed some work, but his take offs were actually pretty decent, all things considered. She had a feeling that he'd be getting a lot more practice at it too, as long as they could find the buildings to land on and spend the nights.

"So where are we right now?" he asked, bringing a smile to her face.

"Remind me to teach you about the navigational equipment on this bird," she told him.

Grinning he replied, "Probably won't do much good. I always like to say that I've got a good sense of direction, but in my whole life I've never been this far from home. Hell, I don't think I've hardly ever even left Wisconsin really."

"Really?" she said, surprised. "I don't think I've ever lived in any one place long enough to consider it a home."

Clearing his throat, CJ changed the subject. "You, uh, never answered my question, about where we're at."

"We crossed into Guatemala about twenty minutes ago, over there to the right," she pointed off in the distance, "You should be able to just make out the Pacific Ocean."

"I thought you said we'd be sticking right to the coast?"

"For the most part, but we're going to have to go out of our way in order to fuel up. Our first stop is over in the Sierra De Las Minas. Little out of the way spot in the mountains."

"Drug producers, isn't that what you said?"

"Yea. But it's the only airfield I know of that's going to be off the beaten path. I've got the rough coordinates of the location, and in the long run it's better to go out of our way to hit this place than to wander blindly hoping we'll come across another one."

They continued on in relative silence, Briggs taking the controls long enough to adjust their course, demonstrating to CJ what to do, before returning the aircraft to his command. It was a pattern that they followed for the next few hours, Briggs grabbing quick naps in between course adjustments. At last she radioed the other helicopters. "Cowboy, Steele, start getting your teams together, we should be hitting the airfield in about twenty minutes."

"Are you sure about this?" CJ asked, pulling his communications equipment on in the cramped compartment.

"No, but then, I haven't been sure of anything we've done for the last couple of months."

He shook his head, reaching for his weapon, checking the clip. Finally he began loading clips of ammunition into the pouches of his webbed pistol belt. The clearing where the makeshift airfield was situated came into view. There was no sign of movement, but the clearing was surrounded on all sides with thick stands of trees.

"Cowboy, let's circle once, see if anything rears its head below."

"Affirmative," he replied. "Steele, you hear that?"

"Negative," came Masters' voice. "Steele wanted to be on the ground team, I'm back on the controls."

"Roger that. Follow Briggsy's lead, let us know if you see any movement below."

"You got it."

The three helicopters circled once around the clearing, flying so low that CJ was amazed they weren't touching the tree tops in the process. Finally the call was made to land. Like before, the teams alit from the helicopters almost as soon as their skids touched the ground.

"Ah shit, who's brilliant idea was it to let Steve come out and fuel up my helicopter," CJ's voice complained over the radio.

"It wasn't my choice you fuckin' moron," Steve replied angrily.

"Both of you assholes cut the chatter now," commanded Briggs. "Keep these fucking channels clear unless you see something out there moving."

The refueling was going smoothly, better than most of their previous experiences. Then Monica, who was sitting alongside Cowboy in the Stallion, caught some movement along the edge of the trees on the far side of the clearing. She was just grabbing for a pair of binoculars when the first shots were fired.

"Sonuvabitch!" hollered Cowboy. "Briggsy someone out there is shooting at us!"

"I'd say either our drug dealers have survived, or the corpses remember how to shoot," she replied. On the open channel she called out, "Everyone back on the birds, we're getting out of here."

Steve hadn't needed any encouragement, he was halfway back to the Blackhawk as soon as the first shot flew by. The others were scampering back just as quickly, until Monica's voice came over the radio. "Briggs, Steve left the pump's nozzle in your fuel tank," she said frantically. CJ, who'd just climbed aboard swung the door open again.

"I got it!" radioed Roger, running over. He pulled the nozzle free, hurling it away from the helicopter as he sprinted back towards the Blackhawk. Briggs immediately began lifting off, reaching down and arming the weapons. The Stallion also began ascending into the sky just as Roger reached the side of the Blackhawk and a shot caught him in the leg, just below his right knee.

"Man down, man down," called Cowboy over the radio, watching as Roger struggled back to his feet. Another shot caught him in his left forearm, causing him to fall once more.

"Bastards," Briggs gritted out, swiftly bringing in the AH-6 for a strafing run of the treeline. In the meantime, Tom and Cook leapt from the Blackhawk and helped the wounded Roger on board, the helicopter taking off as soon as they were all safely on board.

"Cowboy, Masters take evasive action, get the fuck outta here," commanded Briggs, turning and making another run on the trees before moving to follow the others. Fifteen minutes later, they left the mountains behind, making a beeline for the coast once more. "Masters, what's the report on Roger?"

"Two shots caught him, Tom's working on him now to stop the bleeding. One passed clean through his arm, the other one's still in his leg. We're gonna have to land to take care of it."

"Can Tom get him stable enough to fly for a few hours first?"

"He thinks so, but he's not happy about it."

"Biggest city in our flight path is gonna be Santa Ana, across the border into El Salvador. If we have to, we can divert, but I don't want to do that unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Let's do it."

"Oh, and Masters," Briggs said, a steely tone of fury in her voice.

"Yea?"

"Let Steve know he's a dead man the next time I see his cowardly ass."

"That's a big affirmative. Out."


	38. Reality Vs Fiction

The helicopters raced across the skies, their pilots pushing the machines to the limit in an attempt to reach Santa Ana before dark. As they flew, Briggs silently fumed over how close they'd come to losing a man, especially since it could have been avoided. Steve's cowardice under fire disgusted her. CJ, seeing the anger in her expression, wisely kept his mouth shut rather than try to initiate any small talk. Every now and then, he'd catch the occasional "Fuckin' Steve, should have left his ass behind a long time ago," uttered under his companion's breath. Silently CJ thanked his luck that all that fury beside him was directed towards somebody else, he definitely didn't want to end up on this woman's bad side. 

As dusk began falling across the sky, the helicopters at last reached their destination. They located a large, three story building with a deserted rooftop stretching out before them. One by one the helicopters descended and landed. Almost at once, the passengers on board the Blackhawk began unloading a now unconscious Roger, carrying him over to where Michael was busy preparing a makeshift pallet out of a sleeping bag and some extra blankets. In the meantime, Ana climbed from the Stallion laden with the limited medical supplies they carried. Moving as swiftly as she could, Ana joined Tom kneeling beside Roger, carefully removing the bandages the medic had applied earlier and inspecting the wound.

Briggs stalked over beside them. "What's the status she asked," gesturing towards Roger as Tom turned to look at her.

"I gave him something for the pain earlier, but it wore off before we landed. Masters was a little rough with the landing, it jostled Rog's leg pretty good. I think something may have hit it as well, by I can't say for certain. All I know is that he screamed once and passed out as soon as the skids hit the roof."

She nodded, turning and scanning the crowd growing around them. Finally she spotted the person she was looking for--Steve. "How's the wound, looking?" she asked, turning her attention back to the three before her.

"I think he'll be okay," Ana said, gently probing at the bullet wound. "It doesn't look like the bullet did any serious damage, I think if we can get it out okay, stitch it up he'll be all right."

"Just don't plan on putting him back to work any time soon," Tom said, trying to smile.

Briggs just looked at him for a moment, finally turning on her heel and saying, "Just do what you have to do." She stalked angrily past the group who were talking quietly amongst themselves, speculating on the severity of Roger's injuries. Steve stood at the very back of the group, slightly apart from the others, watching as Ana worked on removing the bullet with Tom's assistance. So engrossed in what watdhing what they were doing, Steve didn't even realize Briggs was in front of him until a split second before she hammered a hard right hook into his jaw that sent him reeling backwards.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Steve hollered as he fell back.

"You rotten, cowardly Sonuvabitch!" she said angrily, grabbing for his shirt to keep him from falling flat on his back. She jerked on the shirt, propelling him forward again where he was met by a brutal uppercut, once again catching him in his jaw. A few of his teeth were jarred loose by the impact, and blood spewed forth out of his mouth, running in a trail down his chin. He grunted in pain, falling to the ground as Michael and Kenneth rushed over and attempted to restrain Briggs.

"Take it easy Sergeant," panted Michael as he gripped her right arm, amazed at the strength she displayed. Deftly he dodged the kick she'd aimed towards the side of his knee cap.

Kenneth was less diplomatic about the task. "Goddammit you crazy bitch," he ground out between his tightly clenched teeth. "That stupid motherfucker isn't even worth the time you could spend wipin' this rooftop with his ass."

"Get her away from me, dammit, she's crazy!" Steve cried out.

Briggs ignored them all, lunging forward towards Steve once more, pulling Kenneth and Michael with her. With a sharp twist, she managed to break loose of Michael's hold on her arm, swiftly pivoting towards Kenneth, she brought her foot up in a high kick that caught him in the side of the head, momentarily stunning him. Before either man could stop her, Briggs rushed forward, catching Steve with a vicious kick to his side as he tried to rise once more to his feet. The impact of the kick moved him a few feet closer to the edge of the roof. Michael and Kenneth moved forward to intervene once more, but Cowboy stopped them.

"I've been on the receiving end of her wrath more times than I care to think about," he drawled. "It's best for everyone to just go ahead and let her work it out of her system, otherwise she really gets mean."

"You don't call what she's doing now mean?" Kenneth asked incredulously. They watched as Briggs gripped Steve by the neck, pulling him to his feet and propelling him the last few feet to the edge of the roof. She pushed him forward so that his head hung over the roof's edge, forcing him to stare down below at the growing mob of undeads as she bent forward herself and spoke softly into his ear.

"Nah, he'll be bruised, maybe have a cracked rib or two, but nothing more serious. Be glad she hasn't pulled her pistol on him," Cowboy said, "if she did that, then started to knee-cap him or something, then you'd know she was feeling mean.This ain't nothing. And when she's done, it'll be like it never happened."

Michael and Kenneth looked at him like he was just as crazy as his sister. When they turned their attention back to the edge though, Briggs was walking calmly away, calling for Masters and Cowboy to join her. It was as if she'd never come close to killing a man with her bare hands, only the blood that dripped from the split knuckle on her right hand betrayed what she'd done. Over beside the roof's edge, Steve sat in a heap, gripping his ribs and moaning in pain.

"Welcome to yet another fun-filled day with our dysfunctional family," CJ said, moving up behind Kenneth and Michael. He grinned when he saw Steve. "Damn, you wouldn't believe how many times I've wanted to do that myself. Steve, you've never looked better my friend."

Hearing CJ's words, Steve drew himself up into a sitting position. He tried to sneer at him, but the effect was ruined by his rapidly swelling jaw, making it appear as more of a grimace. Haughtily he said in a slightly garbled voice, "You just weren't man enough to do it on your own so you had your bitch to it for you."

"Steve, I wouldn't try to talk shit if I was you. I mean, you're the one that just got your ass handed to you by a girl," CJ said, a broad smile brightening his face as he turned and walked away. Caught of guard, Kenneth couldn't keep his surprised laugh from escaping.

An hour later, Briggs caught up with Ana and asked for the latest status report on Roger. She wrapped a length of gauze around her own injured knuckles as they conversed.

"Well, I got the bullet out of his leg okay, and Tom helped get both the wounds cleaned and stitched up. I think he'll pull through all right, providing we can keep either of them from becoming infected," Ana told her.

Briggs nodded, digesting the information before inquiring, "Has he regained consciousness at all?"

"Yea, he woke up right about the same time you landed that right hook on Steve's jaw, and I think he was pretty much awake and lucid the rest of the time you were beating the hell out of him too. He didn't pass out againuntil I started probing to locate the bullet."

"Is that normal?"

"Hard to say, but I figure unless you're some kind of masochist who likes that kind of pain it's fairly normal. But then, no two patients are the same either," Ana replied. Once again, Briggs nodded, then began walking away.

"Sergeant?" Ana called out, halting Briggs' departure. The soldier turned, looking expectantly at Ana. "That beating you gave Steve, not that I don't think he deserved it, but was it really necessary? I mean, we need as many of our people as we can get for stuff like refueling and pulling guard duty. I just thought that maybe it was a little...excessive."

"We can manage just fine without him," Briggs replied stiffly, a twinge of anger touching her voice. "Besides, I wouldn't trust him to man the fuel pumps or provide cover after his display of cowardice today."

"So we're just going to risk it with fewer people?" demanded Ana.

"No, we're just going to utilize different people," Briggs said dismissively.

"You can't be thinking about sending Monica or Nicole out there, tell me you're not thinking of doing that," Ana insisted.

"Ana, you just focus on getting Roger back on his feet again, leave the strategic planning to me. And for the record, Steve's damn lucky I didn't shoot his ass and dump him below for those things to feed on."

"This is crazy, you're crazy," muttered Ana, closing her eyes as she reached up to massage her temples.

"Welcome to the New World Order," Briggs called out over her shoulder,moving away to finish unloading gear from the helicopters.

After having watched the exchange between Ana and Briggs, Monica walked over to where Walker was seated. "So is your boss always such a bitch? Or did we just catch her on a good day?" she asked, seating herself beside the young soldier and attempting to open an MRE.

"Don't know, never met her before Ft. Pastor fell," he replied, reaching out and opening the MRE for her. "But, if the last few months are anything to go on, I'd have to say no."

Monica looked surprised by his response, so he hastened to add, "At least not all the time anyway. Oh, I'm, uh, sorry she beat the crap outta your boyfriend, I guess I can see why you think she's a little bitchy."

"I told you before, Steve's not my boyfriend. And don't waste your time feeling sorry about what happened to him, as far as I'm concerned, he got what he deserved," she said. When Walker remained silent, she took a bite of the MRE, grimacing as she did. The expression on her face caused him to burst out laughing. She narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm glad I amuse you so much."

Quickly attempting to defend himself, he explained, "Look, I'm sorry, but you just reminded me of myself the first time I ate one of those. Some of the old timers who'd been in for awhile told me how much better these were compared to what they used to get. Said I didn't know how good I had it."

Monica smiled. "Jesus, what do they do, numb your taste buds after awhile or what? This is terrible."

"You get used to it in time. They sure as hell beat starving."

"Or cannibalism," Monica joked before fully realizing what she'd said. Listening to the moans rising up around the building on all sides, she suddenly felt sick. Mentally, she berated herself for the thoughtless words. "I can't believe I just said that. It's always been one of my biggest faults, blurting out the first thing that comes to my mind without actually thinking about it."

Walker nodded in understanding. "It's okay, I don't think your saying that is any worse than the way I'm starting to feel."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Numb. I'm starting to feel numb. None of that shit out there seems to shock me anymore, nothing I see...The men, the women...the children, especially the children...all torn up yet still walking around, I don't know. It just doesn't seem to bother me the way it used to. I barely even notice all the moaning anymore either...the only thing I can't ignore is the smell," he said, smiling weakly at her. "Otherwise, I don't know, I just can't seem to think of them as people anymore."

"They're not people anymore, at least I don't think so. People can think and reason and talk...they have souls, an inner light that makes us all just a little bit unique from everybody else," Monica said.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But that doesn't make me feel any better. It's messed up, I feel bad because I think I should feel worse than I do about all this shit. Maybe I'm just going crazy."

"No, your not," Monica said reassuringly, reaching out and touching his arm. "They call it survivor guilt I think. I saw Dr. Phil talking about it on Oprah once, people who survived car wrecks and lost someone they loved, stuff like that."

To his credit, Walker tried hard to hold back the laughter, but it burst out of him just as Sanchez came upon them. "Walker man, you got something funny you're holding out on from the rest of us."

Walker smiled, causing Monica to glower at him. He broke into fresh peals of laughter, finally pulling himself together enough to answer Sanchez. "Nah man," he laughed. "Monica here was just giving me some psychological advice from Oprah, or was it Dr.  
Phil?" he asked her, elbowing her softly in the side.

"Okay...Sorry I asked," Sanchez said,he turnedand moved away, leaving Monica and Walker alone once more.

"Why'd you have to go and tell him that?" Monica demanded, prepared to be insulted by his reply.

"Because I knew that any mention of the words Dr. Phil and Oprah would send him running."

"But why would you..."

"So I can enjoy a few more minutes alone, with one of the most beautiful women I've ever met," he said, blushing a virulent shade of red.

Monica smiled hugely, her irritation over being made fun of temporarily forgotten. "Don't you mean left alive?" she teased. His ears turned the same color red as his face at her words.

"No, I mean ever," he stammered out, even more embarrassed that he'd made such and admission.

"You know what Walker, I don't think you have to worry that you're too numb to feel anything. You're definitely a living, feeling person," Monica told him.

The two were so engrossed in their conversation that they failed to notice Cowboy and Briggs observing them from a short distance away. "And then there was one," commented Briggs.

"Huh?" Cowboy asked, turning to look at her.

"Have you noticed how much life is imitating art here?"

"How so?"

"Think of every horror movie, thriller, drama or whatever that you've ever seen. One by one everyone always seems to pair up."

"Yea, now that you mention it. Ana and Michael, Fran and Peter..." Cowboy started.

"Nicole and Terry, and now young Walker and Monica," she finished for him.

"Now don't go forgetting about yourself and CJ," goaded Cowboy, earning himself a teasing punch in the ribs.

"And now poor Spec. Steele is the only one left."

"Yea, well, not to change the subject or anything, but what's our game plan for tomorrow?" he asked.

"We'll have to see if we can locate a spot to fuel up, probably somewhere in Honduras, unless we can make it to Nicaragua. My goal is to reach Managua by nightfall, we'll be able to reach the island by the day after by my calculations."

"Yea, now we just gotta hope that you're right about it being free of the infection," he told her.

"You're right about that," she replied softly.

"You know, when you started talking about that whole 'life imitating art' thing, I was afraid you were gonna start talking about those cheesy 'Return of the Living Dead' movies," he told her smiling. "Remember those?"

"How could I forget, we snuck into the theater to see the first two," she said, smiling at the memory.

"There was more than two?"

"Unfortunately. The third one wasn't worth the film they put in the cameras. I saw it on one of those movie marathon weekends the last time I was laid up."

"That was the shot in the side with the nine mill wasn't it? Just missed your liver?" he asked.

"Nah, this was in the shoulder, with the .45."

"I was close, I knew it was a gunshot anyway. And as long as you didn't waste good money renting the movie, well, I guess there was no harm done," he said cheerfully.

"Yea, but I did seriously think about canceling my satellite service after that," she joked.

"So in those Living Dead movies, how'd they kill them anyway? Shot to the head?" he guessed.

"Nah, I think they electrocuted them or nuked them or some shit like that," she replied. "I don't think headshots fazed them at all come to think about it, acted pretty much the same as our little friends below do when you hit them anywhere but the head."

"Well I'll be damned, you mean the movies got something wrong?" Cowboy said with faux shock. Taking a good look at each others faces, they burst into laughter over the absurdity of their whole conversation. The noise drew the attention of a couple of their travel companions.

"What's got you two so entertained?" asked Michael, walking up to join them.

"Just a philosophical debate over great works of theatrical art and it's influence on our lives today," Cowboy responded, completely deadpan. Briggs couldn't hold back another grin.

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked CJ.

"We're talking about movies," Briggs answered. "Specifically zombie movies like the Return of the Living Dead flicks."

A brief smile touched Michael's face. "They're no where near the truth, couldn't those things talk in that movie?"

"Yea," Briggs agreed. "And they only ate the brain."

"Oh I know one we're forgetting about," Cowboy said, "What about Shaun of the Dead?"

"Hell yea, where they were fighting over their vinyl collection, hurling 'em life frisbees and shit," laughed Briggs.

Cowboy shook his head, "Nah, I liked the ending better, where they domesticated the damn things and used them to do the jobs that nobody else liked to do...weren't they chained up to shopping carts or something?"

"Yes! And there was the one on the talk show and the woman carrying on about how she loved him," Briggs laughed.

"No, better yet. What about how he had his best mate chained up in the backyard shed and they still played those damn playstation games together? Now that was some funny shit," declared Cowboy.

"That Romero guy had it right though," CJ said quietly. "More or less anyway."

"Yea, come to think of it, you're right," admitted Michael. "But wasn't it the already dead that came back to life in his movie?"

The four of them pondered the thought for a moment, Ana finally answering the question for them. "No...it...I think I remember a little girl being bit. Didn't she end up getting sick and then coming back and attacking her parents or something?"

"Yea, I think you're right," agreed Cowboy. "And I bet after that they never tried to cut off her allowance again." Ana gave him a dark look for his comment, the others just smiled weakly."

"She's right," Briggs said. "It was the same theme in the Living Dead and Shaun movies too. Anyone who got bit became one of them. Providing there was enough pieces left anyway."

"Too bad nobody treating all the bite victims when this thing started was up to date on their horror movie trivia, maybe we could have avoided all this," Michael told them.

"Does anyone but me find it kind of odd that we're up here talking about zombie movies and comparing them to real life?" Ana asked. "Especially since, here we are, stranded on a roof, surrounded on all sides by the real things because they are part of our reality now."

"Well when you put it that way it does," Briggs agreed. "But that doesn't mean we can't sit around critiquing films for their lack of authenticity."

"Not to defend the aforementioned film industry," commented Cowboy, "But it's not like they had any real life experience with these things until now. Not that there's going to be any filmmakers left to make the movie."

"But you're still comparing fiction to real life!" insisted Ana.

"Why not? Movies, no matter what their genre, are just a reflection of life," Briggs told her.

"Oh really? So tell me how exactly does a movie like Return of the Living Dead reflect life?" Ana demanded.

"You could say, in a way, that they're about a recurring theme of facing your worst fears, accepting the challenge they offer you, and working together with others to defeat the bad guys and survive."

"And the zombies are just the 'bad guys.' Is that what you're saying?" Ana asked skeptically.

"More or less."

"That's bullshit."

"Big time. But if you really think about it, it's true. Unintentionally or not."

"I give up. Talking to you guys about this is just mentally exhausting. I'm going to bed," Ana said, walking away.

"I think I'll join her," Michael said, following behind.

"Suit yourselves," Briggs called after their retreating backs. She lowered herself to the roof, stretching out fully, arms folded behind her head and looked up at the stars. "You two staying or going?" she asked. CJ and Cowboy both joined her, laying and looking up into the night sky.


	39. Testing

Two men walked through a sterile white hallway, making their way purposefully towards a lone door, situated at the end. Their footsteps echoed around them, the only sound aside from their voices. 

"So tell me Captain, how is it possible that Burke and her little group of misfits still eludes us? Just what exactly is it our teams are doing out there?" demanded the tall, dark haired man.

"I don't know sir. They've been scouring the western seaboard for them, but so far they haven't turned up anything," replied the officer. Silently he anticipated what the dark haired man's reaction over his answer. Conveniently, he didn't have long to wait.

"What the fuck do you mean they're scouring the west coast!" he exploded angrily. "What about the Midwest and the east? Have you even bothered having any of those teams out searching? Goddammit! As soon as I radioed you from Colorado you should have had teams across the country tracking them down!"

"All of our units have teams scrambled and out searching Scarecrow," the Captain told him placatingly. "At least the ones still in contact with us. Our last reported sighting of Burke's group led us to believe they were heading on a westerly course."

"Did you have a visual confirmation of the helicopters?"

"Yes."

"Who? Did he verify the identification numbers on the aircraft? I want to talk to them," Scarecrow demanded.

"Your mother, her housekeeper, and the groom. That was our last confirmed sighting of Burke. And with all of our birds scrambling to find her, wasting valuable resources I might add, I can't get a reliable report from any of the ground teams, nothing passing over has the known markings of the AH-6 that they stole or the CH-53 with which you supplied them."

Ignoring the other man's accusatory statement, Scarecrow uttered, "My father was right, I'm surrounded by complete incompetents!" He continued to rage as they arrived atthe door. Reaching out he wrenched open the door and swept inside."

"Asshole," muttered the officer under his breath before he too stepped into the room. Surprisingly, the room was nothing more than a large windowed viewing area. Moving forward to stand beside Scarecrow, he looked out the window. Down below, he saw zombies, chained to the walls of various rooms. "What the hell!" he uttered in shock.

"Captain Bryant, Scarecrow, welcome to our little observation room," a small, gray-haired man said from a computer station at the far side of the room.

"Doctor Irwin," Scarecrow acknowledged the man.

"What is all this?" asked Bryant, still looking down atwhat could only be described as rooms of horror.

"Research, dear boy. Research," the Doctor said cheerfully.

"What exactly are you 'researching' then?" pressed Bryant.

"Please, join me," Irwin said, gesturing for the two men to stand beside him at the left most viewing window. "What you see here is Miguel. Now, Miguel was formerly a Sergeant in the Air Force, a mechanic I believe," the doctor mused.

"Get to the point Doctor," Scarecrow said, his impatience showing.

"In good time Scarecrow. Now Miguel here has helped us to understand the initial gestation period of the virus. In his particular case, his bite was nothing more than a shallow scratch on his calf, just above the top of his boot. He survived for nearly a week and a half before the virus ravaged his body enough to do him in. After that, it was less than three minutes before he became re-animated..."

"With immediate aggressive, homicidal tendencies, I'm familiar with the research Doctor," Scarecrow interrupted.

"Yes, yes, quite right," mumbled Irwin. "But the difference is, we've never had one last that long, he's quite unique really, rather extraordinary in fact."

"I get the picture," Scarecrow stated brusquely.

Seeing that any more talk on the subject of Miguel would be a waste of time, Irwin directed the men to the next room below. "This next room is where we're studying the effects of intense heat on the subjects."

Bryant looked below. There was a lone door on the far side of the room directly opposite the viewing window, the other three walls each had what remained of a zombie, chained by its neck, attached to them. Large, bright lamps hung overhead.

Clearing his throat, Irwin explained further, "This is the third batch we've used in the heat room. Even with the virus' degenerative inhibitors, the extreme heat conditions experienced in either desert-like climates, or the extreme humidity of a rain forest significantly speed the decomposition of our subjects. Now, the next room is for studying the effects of extreme cold on the subjects, and in the last room we're trying to determine longevity under optimal conditions," the scientist concluded.

"What do you mean you're trying to determine longevity?" asked Bryant curiously.

"Follow me," Irwin replied, leading the two men to view the room in question. "As you can see, each of our experiments involve three study subjects. These three are all first generation infecteds. We were able to retrieve them and contain them for several weeks before placing them here in our program. They've been denied any sort of nourishment all that time so we can determine just exactly how long they can go without a food source, and more to the point, find out if a food source is really necessary for their continued existence. We're trying to find out exactly how far this virus has removed them from the human race," he told them proudly.

"They're dead Doctor, how much further removed from the human race can they possibly get?" Scarecrow asked.

"Yes, yes, a poor choice of words on my end," stammered Irwin.

"I still don't get the optimal conditions part," Bryant said, changing the subject.

Sighing, the researcher shook his head, relieved to have the direct focus of Scarecrow away from himself momentarily. "Where are you from Captain?"

Caught off guard, Bryant replied haltingly, "Lansing...Michigan...but what does that..."

"Imagine for a moment the median summer and fall temperatures in Michigan, Captain. That's what we're trying to recreate here, your overall average temperatures for a given time frame, for a particular area. We want to know how long these things can survive. The previous two rooms, those were just for studying what extremes of temperatures could do for us. This room, this is the one that really matters for us."

"Wait, you're telling me we released this plague on mankind without knowing how long it would survive?" demanded Bryant.

"You're seriously lacking in vision here Captain. We designed this virus specifically to eliminate our enemies," Scarecrow said.

"But what about all those civilians? Millions have died," Bryant said, struggling to keep the emotion from his voice.

"Merely collateral damage," Scarecrow said smoothly. "Now, before you ask any more of these ridiculous questions, I want you to go radio Dillon. See if you can figure out whether or not he's been in contact with Burke and where the hell the bitch has disappeared."

"You're in charge," Bryant replied, taking one last look into the rooms below as he made his way towards the exit.

"Keep me briefed on any news regarding Burke," Scarecrow called out to him as he began making his way through the doorway. Ignoring him, Bryant left the room, hurrying back through the empty corridor towards the communications relay. Once there he made certain he was alone before going to work on the console. At last a familiar face appeared on the screen.

"It's about damn time," complained the person on the screen. "I was starting to think you switched teams on me." The fuzzy picture on the screen, and the time delayed voice made it seem like a poorly dubbed '70's Kung Fu movie to Bryant. Pointing that out wasn't an option however.

"And piss off the legendary Wraith?" he scoffed.

Briggs' face smiled from the screen. "So what's the good word?"

"Aside from Scarecrow remaining in the dark about your location, there is none. The infection has spread out of control, and those culpable still aren't admitting it. They've got more labs up and running, houses of horror to be more specific. All in an attempt to try and figure out how long those things will live for. So far they've got jack. The only thing they can say for sure is that extreme desert-like conditions will make them rot faster, otherwise, they don't have a clue about how to stop them."

"Lovely. Anything else you can tell me about the virus?"

"Just that your best course of action is to head someplace hot, hope you like the beach and remembered to pack some sunscreen."

"What about reports on other survivors?" she asked, ignoring his attempt at humor. "Do we have any kind of numbers yet?"

"I don't know, all I have are numbers for our military holdings still in contact with us. There are bound to be more groups like yours, scattered across the country and holding out for the hope of rescue," he replied. "We still don't have much information from overseas, Australia is the only plague free country that we know of, they were smart enough to close down their airports, turn away oceanic traffic as soon as this thing reared it's ugly head."

"Bully for the Aussies. What about our ships out on sea deployment?"

"So far they remain disease free as well. The only foreseeable trouble we're anticipating is supplies. There were some ships nearing the end of their deployments when this all started, by this point they've got to be running low on supplies."

"With nowhere to go to re-supply," Briggs said.

"If they can make it to Pearl, Hawaii is our only virus free state," Bryant pointed out.

"How about the Island? Any word from the President or Dillon?"

"They've got troubles of their own. I don't have too many details, but it appears the undeads are amassing on the shore, a few have even entered the ocean as if they were going to walk right out to the island."

"Have they made it?" Briggs asked.

"What?"

"Have they made it to the island? The ones who went into the water," Briggs explained.

"No. No reports of that actually happening, but it's clear that they're up to something. Some of the transmissions we've gotten, I don't know, the guys sending them make it sound like those creatures are making plans, creating strategy to work together. It's impossible, that's what it is," scoffed Bryant. "I think they've watched one too many horror movies."

"No it's not horror movies, and the thought of those things working together, it's not impossible. You'd be amazed at some of the things we've seen out here in the field. I think those zombies are quite capable of learning."

"I guess you're the expert in that department," Bryant tried to laugh. "But I'll take your word for it."

"What about our forces? Has there even been any discussion about launching a counteroffensive? Try to take back our place on the food chain even."

"No...not any kind of talkabout it. We've been losing contact with some of our active units, but that's really not surprising. We had dozens of groups put together in two days or less with little more than World War II equipment at their disposal," Bryant explained. "At least, that's what we're hoping is the problem. If they've managed to overrun underground bunkers..." he trailed off.

"In other words, we're slowing going to implode upon ourselves before we ever get our acts together enough to deal with the real problem at hand," Briggs muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I need to end transmission, my team's starting to stir, we'll be dusting off soon. I'll be in touch, on the usual schedule," she said, reaching out to end the transmission.

"I don't suppose it would do much good for me to ask where you're headed," Bryant said quickly, causing her to pause for a brief second.

"No, it wouldn't," she said at last, terminating the connection.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Peter's voice sounded angrily from behind her.

"That," Briggs said, turning and smiling coldly. "That was just an old boyfriend, I was feeling kinda lonely, you know, end of the world and all, kinda hard to find a date in the jungle, that sort of thing."

"Cut with the bullshit lady, what the fuck is going on," he growled.

"How long were you standing there?" she countered.

"I'm the one asking the questions here," Peter stated.

"Then we're at a stalemate," she responded, looking belligerently at him for a moment before turning and packing up the communications equipment.

"I want some answers now dammit!" Peter demanded, pulling her away from her task and trying to spin her towards him. Unexpectantly, she dropped low, spinning and kicking out her leg. The kick caught him in the backs of his knees, knocking him from his feet. Before he knew what was happening, she leaped astride him, pinning his arms down.

"Now then," she said casually, "Just what exactly did you hear?"

Peter struggled for a moment, but Briggs just shifted her position, slamming her knee down into his chest. Gasping for breath, Peter said, "All right already...All I heard was the part about transmitting on the usual schedule."

"And?" prodded Briggs.

"You've been giving away our position all along haven't you?" Peter demanded, anger once more fueling his struggle, almost allowing him to unseat Briggs. "It was your goddamn people, your goddamn fault that Roger got shot!"

"No, that wasn't any of my people," Briggs said, releasing him and returning to the communications equipment. "This is the first time I've contacted any of them since we left the States," she added, turning to face him once more.

"But if you were talking to them before we left, then you could have told them where we were heading, what your flight plan was, everything. And I bet they were just waiting to pick us all off there when they got Roger too," Peter surmised.

Briggs sighed heavily. "First off, I don't discuss my flight plan with anyone outside of this group, hell, I didn't think that this was such a news flash, but most of the time I don't even discuss it with the group. And then, why the fuck would I help the same assholes that I'm trying to keep away from in their efforts to find me. Think about it man. I may be a little crazy, but I'm not dumb. Whoever it was that shot your friend, they weren't my people."

"Than who was it?"

"Gee, I don't know Peter, the drug dealers whobuilt the damn airstrip, maybe?" Briggs asked sarcastically. "This isn't brain surgery here you know, it's a simple matter of putting two and two together. Now, I understand you're pissed off about your friend, I really do.In case you didn't notice that I was feelingthat way when I kicked the shit out of Steve.I'm not about to betray us."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Frankly, I don't give a damn what you believe, Peter. If you want to kill me, then do it, you have other pilots who can fly the birds. Maybe they'll even be able to figure out what island I was leading us towards,"  
she said, staring him in the eyes. "Otherwise, I suggest we join the others, find out if Roger's fit to fly, and then move out."

"Okay, but first answer me this," he said.

"Yes?"

"What's the news your friend gave you?"

"Same old shit. The geniuses who created this plague have no clue how to stop it, we're losing contact with some of our outposts around the country, and basically, we've lost our spot at the top of the food chain. Anything else before we draw a crowd?" she asked, gesturing towards the helicopters. The sounds of the rest of the group stirring and getting ready for the day's journey could be heard above the din of the undead.

"Yea, how many 'friends' do you have out there?"

"Truthfully? I don't know anymore," she replied.

"What?" Peter asked in surprise, not expecting her answer.

"Well, aside from not knowing how many of them lived through the outbreak, I don't really know how many of them I can trust. There seems to be a little...dissension in my ranks. I'm cashing in on favors owed and hoping against hope that I'm placing my faith in the right people," she leveled at him.

"What makes you so sure you can trust that Bryan guy?" he asked skeptically, her last statement failing to instill any sense of faith in her friendships.

"Bryant, his name's Bryant. And I was telling the truth about the old boyfriend part," she said, grinning. "He and I go way back, we were friends before I married Scarecrow, friends while I was married to Scarecrow, and he's one of the few things I actually got to keep in the divorce, unknown to Scarecrow of course. Plus, he's one of the few people who know the truth about me and Cowboy," She began walking towards the helicopter, Peter moved to walk beside her.

"What difference is that supposed to make?"

"None at all, except to give me faith in him."

Peter looked questioningly at her, but she just walked away from him, calling out to the group gatherig near Roger's pallet, "If our patient's got the medic's okay to go, then let's get this shit loaded andget our asses skyward."


	40. Mission Planning

As their island salvation came within reach, word spread among the helicopter crews that Roger's condition was deteriorating. Despite the best efforts of Ana and Tom, the wounds he'd suffered during their jungle fueling had become infected. He lay aboard the Herzeleid, floating in and out of consciousness.His screams sometimes echoed throughout the confines of the aircraft,a sideeffect of the delirium he suffered during his conscious moments,caused by the raging fever the infection had brought on. Ana feared he'd soon die if they couldn't bring the fever and infection under control.

Their final day of flying, Briggshad headed out in the Eve of Destruction,accompanied as usual by CJ. They were doing a recon of the island, leaving the othersfew hours behind. If the truth were ever to come out, Briggs did it more to spare the others a few extra hours of listening to the rantings of the sick man than because she really felt the recon work was necessary. When they'd left, Roger was resting peacefully for the first time in nearly 48 hours.

"Cowboy, Masters," Briggs called out over the radio.

"I hope you've got some good news for us," Cowboy said grimly, listening to the sound of Roger'sscreamsechoing fromthe back of the Herzeleid. He was once again ranting about bloody teeth coming for him.

"Well, I do have some," Briggs said cautiously, which caused a cheer from the other two pilots to blast over the headset, momentarily silencing her. She looked at CJ, silently dreading what the reaction to the rest of her news would be, finally returning her attention to the radio. "If ya'll are finished celebrating, let me finish. I've got good news and bad news to report."

"Shit," muttered Masters, the momentary elation he'd felt disappearing in the space of a heartbeat.

"Lay it on us," Cowboy said, mentally bracing himself for the worst.

"It looks as if the power is somehow still on, they don't appear to be linked up to the mainland in that regard. Plus the buildings are all intact," she reported.

"Get to the point Kenny," Cowboy impatiently demanded.

"Okay. It also looks like the ground level of the main building has been barricaded, quite well actually. Oh, and there's about twenty of those things, give or take, crawling all around the outside of it."

"Is there any indication that there's anyone left alive inside?" Masters asked.

"Well, let me ask you something," Briggs replied. "Have you ever known those creatures to just hang around outside a building, pounding and screaming to get inside, when it was just an empty shell? And have you ever know them to congregate in a single location like this if they couldn't smell or sense live, warm, human flesh inside?"

"Point taken," the pilot replied.

"Oh, the people standing on the roof waving their arms around at us kinda makes me think that there are people alive down there too," Briggs added, grinning at CJ.

"They're on the roof," Cowboy remarked, "Do they have a helipad there?"

"Negative, helipad's located out behind the building aways. I don't think the main building's roof could support the weight of little Eve here either, much less the Bad or Herzeleid."

"So we're fucked," groaned Masters despondently. The island that had been their hope for the last week, thata few seconds before had seemed so close now seemedfar from their reach.

"No, not necessarily," Briggs told him. "We're going to have to do a sweep and clean before we can move in with the civilians, but other than that I don't foresee any major problems going ahead with our plans."

"Are you crazy?" demanded the pilot. "You just said that there was twenty of those things down there around the building and now rooftop to land on. Now, stop me if you've heard this one before,but they'll tear us to pieces before we can even climb out of the helicopters, climbing out on the ground and shit."

Ignoring his comment, Briggs asked, "Cowboy, how far out from the mainland are you?"

"Just barely a mile," he responded. "Why?"

"Turn around, find a secure building to land on and wait for us there. I've got a plan."

"Oh, you've got a plan, that's really comforting," Masters said sarcastically.

"Cowboy, I'm counting on you, find us a building, we'll sort the rest out later," Briggs said.

"Affirmative, I just hope you know what you're doing," Cowboy replied. He banked the helicopter into a turn,heading back towards the mainland.

A short hour later, the group had convened, onceagain on a rooftop, high above yet another city of the dead. No matter where they went, every city, every town was starting to look alike, an empty rooftop, a horrible smell, and the din of the dead.

"Briggs, what you have in mind is suicidal!" Fran declared. "We've got to find another place to go. We tried your island, and it's no good, we have no choice but to move on."

"Where?" Briggs asked. "There aren't very many options left open to us right now, clearing the island is worth the risk in my opinion."

"No," insisted Fran. "There are few enough people left in this world without our taking any unnecessary risks like that. There have got to be uninhabited islands out there somewhere for us to go to, we just have to find them. Or else we can try to reach one of those little safe havens you're always secretly whispering about to someone on that computer of yours."

"What about Roger? Are you ready to just give up on him, Fran?" Briggs asked coldly, using whatever leverage she could to steer the others away from Fran's last statement. "And what about you and that baby you're carrying? Think that uninhabited island is going to be very suitable when your time comes?"

"She'd have medical professionals there to help her," Tom said, before Fran could form a response. Stepping forward to stand by the pregnant woman's side, he added, "And we wouldn't exactly be 'writing Roger off' as you so eloquently put it. We can go someone that's deserted, get him off this helicopter, let him actually rest. He could get better."

Briggs sighed, wearily rubbing her hand across her eyes. "Ana, in your considerable medical expertise, is there any chance in hell that Roger's going to just miraculously improve if we just land on an island and let him rest? Or does he need some serious antibiotics to get that infection under control?"

"He's going to need some sort of antibiotic if he's going to have any chance of fighting off that infection, although, he also needs to get off this helicopter and be able to rest," Ana replied.

"I don't see what difference where we go makes," Tom told them. "We don't have the medicine he needs. Short of breaking into a hospital and stealing some I don't see where we're going to suddenly find it."

"Hospitals are no good," Peter said. "The power's been down on the mainland for months, most of your antibiotics need to be refrigerated, the supply would have all gone bad by now."

"You've never heard of a pill?" scoffed Tom.

"Tom, you've treated Roger yourself, he can barely drink water now, there's no way we'd be able to get pills down his throat," rebuffed Ana.

"But the island.."

"The island still has power," Briggs said forcefully. "And an infirmary," she added. "In my opinion, it's the best, if not the only chance to get what we need."

"She's right," agreed Peter. "If there's a chance that raiding that island means we can help out Rog, then that's what we're going to do. I don't even see why we're wasting time arguing about it."

"I still think it's suicide," Fran told them furiously.

"No, not necessarily," Michael said quietly. "I think she's got a decent plan. Maybe we could change a thing or two, but I think we can pull it off."

Fran opened her mouth to argue once more, but Briggs ignored her, speaking loudly herself instead.

"I know that probably most of you consider this to be too risky to attempt," she said. "And I understand that some of you are afraid to go in on thesweep and clean." She looked around at the assembled group that stood before her, pausing for a long moment in her speech as she did so. "I understand, and that's why I'm making this mission fully volunteer. Masters, I'm going to ask you to stay behind with Roger, Fran, the kids and whoever else. If we haven't reported back to you by morning, take the Stallion and make a run for it. If I'm gone, maybe Scarecrow will leave you all in peace."

Cowboy moved to stand behind his sister. "You know I'm in it with you to the end," he said. CJ joined them, along with Marshall, Henry, Walker, Jones, Cook and Steele.

"You don't think you're going anywhere without me do you Bro?" Kenneth asked his brother, moving to join the others.

"Knew you wouldn't let me down," grinned Henry. As they stood together watching, Michael, Terry, Peter and Sanchez also volunteered to join the strike team.

"Terry?" Nicole squeaked out.

"It's something I have to do Nicole," he said softly.

"I'm coming with you too," Ana said, stepping forward.

"No, Ana, you don't need to," Michael said quickly.

"He's right Ana," Briggs agreed. "You'd be better off staying here and monitoring Roger."

"Tom can do that, he doesn't believe in your mission afterall, I do. Besides, you never know when you're going to find some need for medical assistance," she tried to smile as she said it.

"Okay then, you're in. And this is our strike team," Briggs said, glancing around, more than a little surprised as shetook in thenumber of group members that had willing volunteered. "Now that you've volunteered though, here's what we're gonna try and pull off."

It was nearly two hours later that the two helicopters moved away from the rooftop. Fran, Monica, and Nicole watched as they moved off on the horizon. "Their plan is going to work, right?" Nicole asked of no one in particular.

"Yea kid, we'll be soaking up the sun on a nice warm beach by tomorrow," Monica replied, no trace of her former hostility towards the teen in evidence. "Maybe we can even get Terry and Walker to be our beach butlers for us."

"Be realistic Monica," Fran said in disgust. "They're never coming back," she muttered fatalistically while she turned and stomped back to where Tom sat with Roger.

Nicole turned her ashen face towards Monica, "Tell me the truth Monica, do you really believe that they're going to make it? That they'll come back to us?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Briggs knows what she's doing. I think they could pull it off," Monica replied. "You can't take everything Fran says too seriously, she's on an emotional hormone rollercoaster ride right now."

"Then you think they'll come back?" Nicole asked again, desperate for reassurance.

"Maybe not all of them," Monica admitted sadly, "but they will be back for us."

On board the helicopters, Briggs prepared the teams with the last minute details.

"Team One will rappel down to one of the ships in the marina, something small and fast with no room for one of those ghouls to be hiding. We'll move directly to the docks in front of the main building of the resort. Our movable feast should attract some of the zombies away from the building, that's when Team Two in Eve will make a strafing run, chop as many of those fuckers to pieces as they can. While they're doing that, Marshall will circle around with Team Three, dropping Sanchez, CJ and Steele onto the roof of the building. Those three are going to be providing sniper fire from the rooftop, and therefore cover fire for Teams One and Four to both move in from the beach and take out the last of them. Team Four will be the remainder of the crew from the Blackhawk, Marshall will touch down for a quick dust off. Any questions?"

"Yea, I got one," Cook called out. "What the fuck are we gonna do if we get down there and find out our boat ain't got any gas?"

"Go on foot until we find one that does," Briggs replied.

"With them things crawling around?" he asked again.

"You could always make a swim for it," Terry called out. "Use the water as a deterrent."

"No, that won't work," Briggs said. "As I understand it, bodies of water don't keep those things at bay any longer, they just walk right out into it."

"Understand it from where?" asked Kenneth.

"I have my sources," Briggs told him vaguely. "The point is, if we don't find a boat the first shot, we've got to haul ass somewhere secure enough that the Blackhawk can pick us up from."

"Where?" Cook asked again, looking down below them. "This whole coastline is swarming with them, they following the noise of our birds."

"There," Briggs said, pointing below. "Looks like a private dock, gated, little tourist rental place no doubt."

"I don't see anything on the dock by the boats, unless their on board them," conceded Cook.

"No, look," Michael said, staring through some field glasses. "There are some moving outside of the gate."

"I bet the owner locked the place down to keep people from stealing his boats and heading out to sea on them," Briggs told them, hoping it would reassure her team. They came abreast of the dock, which appeared to have several boats tied alongside it yet. Briggs, Cowboy, Jones and Cook readied themselves for the descent. With a last look around at the others, Briggs smiled. "We'll see you on the beach," she told them before dropping from sight.


	41. The Invasion

"So tell me Bryant, how long were you going to wait to tell me that Burke's group had been located?" demanded Scarecrow without preamble the moment the officer had stepped into the room. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bryant replied swiftly, the honest look of confusion on his face masking his momentary panic that his allegiance with the woman in question had been discovered.

"I'm talking about this report I found on my desk this morning from the communications staff. It clearly reports that one of our groups in Guatemala has not only seen Burke's aircraft, but engaged in a firefight with them a few days back while they stopped to refuel," Scarecrow told him, thrusting the report into the Captain's hands.

Bryant scanned over the brief report, looking for anything that would incriminate him. At last he said, "Okay, so they traded fire with a group of three helicopters, but I don't see anything that confirms the identity of the air crews. There's nothing here about the identification numbers of the aircraft or anything substantial that would indicate it was in fact Briggs' or Burke's or whatever the hell she's been calling herself group that they faced off against."

"No," agreed Scarecrow. "But it does say that they appeared to have been painted, that the identifying marks seemed to have been purposely covered up. Why else would that have been done unless it was Burke trying to cover her tracks?"

"But how can we be so sure of that? It could be anyone with the skills to fly, survivors who managed to steal some helicopters. They'd obviously want to cover up the markings so they wouldn't get caught," Bryant said cautiously, trying to provide some facts thatcould plausibly provide reasonable doubt over the identity of the group that he was sure in his mind truly was Briggs'.

"Read the report again, Captain. I have eye witness confirmation that there were three helicopters spotted, an AH-6, a Blackhawk, and a CH-53, the exact same aircraft that our prey have been traveling in. And I believe Burke would have much more reason to obscure the markings than any would be thieves you dream up. It's her, I'm sure of it," Scarecrow declared.

"Yes, well, when you put it that way it does make a bit of sense," admitted Bryant weakly. "Shall I put together a pursuit team? Recall our other patrols and put them to use elsewhere?"

"Yes, make it happen."

"And bring Burke in alive?" asked the Captain caustiously.

"No. Take her out, use extreme prejudice. Her traveling companions too, we don't know how much information she's shared with them and I'm not willing to take any unnecessary chances," Scarecrow replied.

"I'll get to work on it immediately, take charge of the pursuit team myself," Bryant replied, moving towards the door and hurriedly escaping from the room.

"Yes, I'm sure you will," muttered Scarecrow as he watched the officer retreat from the room. This mission would go a long way to prove whether or not the Captain could be trusted, something that had become very much in doubt of late.

Bryant rushed down the hallway towards the operations room, his mind racing, trying to come up with a solution to their latest dilemma. It would be impossible to warn Briggs in time, he'd have to be airborne long before their next scheduled communication if he wanted to keep Scarecrow's suspicions from rising any more. Mentally, he began to put together his assault team, troops who were either already loyal to Briggs, or else those that could be easily be persuaded to join her cause.

As Bryant worked to save Briggs from Scarecrow's wrath, she was busy putting her own ass on the line once more. The Blackhawk hovered over the dock of the boat rental place, two lines dropping from either side, where, two by two, the four man team made a swift descent. Touching down, Briggs moved towards the nearest boat that suited their needs and leapt aboard. Cowboyjoined her, inspecting the engine,whileJones and Cook remained alongside on the dock, rifles at the ready as more and more of the zombies gathered outside the fence.

"I don't suppose that someone was nice enough to leave the keys in the ignition for us," Cowboy commented over the noise of the helicopter as he moved at last to stand beside his sister. The Blackhawk lifted slightly and moved away, hovering a short distance from the dock.

"It could happen," Briggs replied, bending down beneath the dashboard. "But then how would I get my practice hot-wiring boats?"

Cowboy shook his head, looking out past the boat stern towards where the rental building sat just inside of the gate. "Keys are probably up there," he said off-handedly.

Briggs grunted, "Not worth the effort to go look for them. Especially if that gate doesn't hold.

"It does look a bit weak," commented Cowboy, watching as the creatures moved against the fence in earnest, their snarls rising to a frenzied pitch. "Jones, get the mooring lines, let's at least get this beast moved away from the dock a bit," he called out.

Jones moved to do his bidding while Cook continued watching the fence. Moments later, the boat was freed from the moorings, and Jones hopped on board. "Whatever you're doing down there Briggs I think you should hurry," he said. "That fence is starting to give."

"They're tearing it to pieces," Cook agreed, coming aboard as well. The two soldiers leaned over the side to push out and away from the dock, hoping the boat would drift away from the dock enough to keep them safe should the zombies break through before Briggs got the machine started. The current wasn't willing to work with them though, within moments the boat banged up against the side of the dock again, scraping its side as it slowly edged closer to shore. They pushed off once again, bumping into another boat as they did, still edging in the wrong direction.

"Uh, Briggs," Jones called, watching as the shore seemed to be moving closer to them. "I really meant it when I said you should hurry."

"What's your problem Jones," grumbled Briggs. A loud crash and a furious roar from the zombie horde as theyfinally broke through the fence causing her to sit up swiftly and bash her head on the underside of the dashboard. She refocused her concentration to the task at hand, swearing loudly as she did.

"I'd say it's more like our problem," replied the soldier, watching as the creatures swarmed onto the dock. "Does this bitch have paddles or something," he asked desperately as they began to near.

"What? Damn!" Briggs said as she once again smacked her head. Finally looking away from her work, she caught sight of the zombies on the docks. "I see what you mean," she said, ducking down once more.

Jones and Cook raised their rifles, firing at the first group of zombies that staggered their way. A few of them dropped, but they barely did anything to stop the slow, almost drunk gait of the rest of the pack as they moved down the dock. They fired again just as the engine roared to life. Popping out from beneath the dash, Briggs swiftly maneuvered the boat away from the other moored vessels, directing the craft into the wide open waters of the harbor. Taking one last look back towards the dock, Jones saw some of the creatures stepping right off the end and dropping into the water as if to follow them still.

"Holy Shit! They're coming after us, they're jumping right in the water!" he shouted in a panicked voice over the noise of the engine. Everyone but Briggs turned to look back at the dock, watching as three more zombies entered the water.

"I've never seen them go into water like that," exclaimed Cook. "They told us all along that they wouldn'tgo in the water." The shock on his face mirrored that of Jones.' Absurdly, Cowboy could only think of the guy from the movie Jaws, always walking around saying 'Don't go in the water.'

I wouldn't worry too much about them," Briggs hollered at them, the roar of the engine and the wake the boat kicked up as it sped along, nearly drowning out her voice as she opened up the throttle all the way.

"Oh yea, why the hell not?" asked Cook, still peering back at the rapidly disappearing dock.

"Even if by some miracle they walked across the bottom and made it out of the harbor, they wouldn't stand a chance against the ocean's current," Briggs told them. "Besides, no point in worrying about that when we've got other things to think about."

"What do you mean 'other things'? It's a little late to be springing stuff like that on us," complained Jones.

"Okay. I won't then," Briggs said, still focusing on their path out into the open sea.

"Won't what?"

"Tell you that this boat wasn't really designed for traveling out on the ocean," she said. "It's more of a cruise around the harbor, throw back a few beers and try to pick up some drunken little co-ed kind of machine."

"You mean we're gonna die in this fucking little boat before we ever even make it to the island?" Cook asked beginning to look a little nauseous.

"Nah, think of it more along the lines of Cuban or Haitian illegals trying to make it to Florida. Some of their boats have actually succeeded you know, from time to time that is," Briggs replied matter-of-factly.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," mumbled Jones, making the sign of the cross.

"Relax," Cowboy said from his seat behind Briggs. He was busy loading a pistol. "We've only got about 5 miles to cover from the harbor to the island, barring any freak accidents or hurricanes we shouldn't have any problems. She's just messing with ya'll. No need to get religion now Jones."

"Spoilsport," Briggs called over her shoulder. The two soldiers visibly relaxed at Cowboy's words.

"Briggs, you can be a real bitch sometimes," Cook told her, looking ahead at a speck on the horizon that slowly began to take shape as their island destination as he inwardly fought the nausea that still plagued him.

"Seriously Briggs, he's right. That was wrong on so many different levels," admonished Jones.

They were all silent for a moment, each of them watching as the island became more visible, the beach and the outline of the buildings becoming clearer. At last Briggs spoke.

"It may have been a shitty thing to do, saying what I did and all, even if it was true to a degree, but ya'll have to admit that it did keep you from freaking out about what lies ahead of us."

Jones looked at her in amazement while the other two men let out a burst of surprised laughter. "Would you mind telling me why you decided that now would be a good time to remind us about that?" he asked.

Briggs hesitated for a moment before saying, "Would you believe me if I said it was because confession is good for the soul?"

"Not a chance in hell lady, it's a bit late for you to suddenly be finding religion too. Try again."

"Okay, we'll go with the truth then. What was the last thing you saw before we left the marina?" she asked.

"Those things. Walking off the dock. Why?"

"The plan for us to draw those creatures away from the buildings."

"So."

"You like to fish Jones?" she suddenly asked.

"Yea, used to spend my summers as a kid fishing with my Grandpa almost every day. What's that got to do with this?"

"Think of this in terms of a fishing trip. The zombies are the fish and we're the bait."

"I get that, what does it have to do with the marina..." he trailed off, a look of understanding coming across his face. If things went as planned and the undeads left the building to come after them, the water wouldn't offer any protection. They would have to bring the boat in close enough to gain their attention, and the likelihood of the water remaining deep enough to eliminate them as a threat was minimal at best. They would be sitting ducks if the boat stalled out. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he said again. If something went wrong with the boat or the Little Bird they were fucked.

"Amen, Jonesy, Amen," Briggs said. "When we get to the island, I'm going to buzz the shore as close as I can for a quick pass, try to get their attention. If that works, we'll move back out aways and pray that Henry takes out as many as he can with Eve. Once they make their pass, we'll move back towards the shore, I want you three to keep picking them off as best as you can. After that we're going to have to rely on our moving fast along the shore, and our boys on the rooftop. Any questions?"

"Yea, you really expect us to be able to make head shots from a moving boat?" Cook asked skeptically.

"Cavalries used to do it from horseback so why the hell not?" Cowboy said.

"You're both nuts," muttered Cook.

"Yea, I hear that a lot," Briggs said. "Now get your asses ready, we're almost to the island."

Overhead, the Blackhawk moved towards the main building, while the AH-6 banked right, heading parallel to the length of the beach. Briggs slowed the boat, arcing slightly to the right as well, but then making a sharp U-turn to head opposite of the Little Bird. She moved as close to the shore as she dared, she kicked up the speed a little bit, but so far the creatures were ignoring them. The Blackhawk deposited the rooftop team, then looped around to hover out over the water once again.

"Shit, they're ignoring us Briggsy," yelled Cowboy.

"Nah, we just don't have their attention yet." She looped around once more, bringing the boat back towards the shore, directly in front of the main building, slowing the boat down to a near stop.

"Briggs, what the fuck are you doing? You know what could happen to us if this thing stalls out," Cook panicked.

"Hey you dumb fucks!" she suddenly screamed out. "Come and get us. Dinner's served!"

A few of the zombies closest to them began to look their way.

"I'll be damned,this may actually work after all," Jones said. He started hollering at the dead too. "Yo! Motherfuckers, let's see you try to get a piece of this," he yelled, firing his rifle into the air.

Slowly, some of the creatures began moving towards them, snarling. From the rooftop, the three man team began to open fire, dropping a pair of the creatures as they staggered towards the beach. It was obvious then that the angle of the roof would make it difficult for them to hit anything that wasn't halfway down the beach, everything directly below was a blindspot.The three passengers aboard the boat began opening fire as well as Briggs kept them moving at a slow crawl through the water.

"Come on you bastards, keep coming for us," muttered Briggs under her breath as she glanced out towards the creatures on the shore. About ten of the creatures were staggering across the beach at various intervals, moving slowly towards the boat, when the Little Bird came through on it's first strafing run, it's guns chewing three of the creatures to pieces. The helicopter turned for a second pass, cutting down another four.

"That should benearly half of them," called Briggs. "Cowboy, get on the radio to the Blackhawk, tell them to drop the last team on the beach, we're going in." She directed the boat headlong for the shore, plowing it right up onto the sand where it lurched to a rough stop, knocking Jones to his knees.

"Everybody move!" hollered Cowboy, leaping over the boat's side and opening fire on the oncoming zombies. Gunfire cracked from all around as the team from the Blackhawk joined the melee. CJ's sniper team atop the roof also continued firing while the ground troops tried to advance towards the buildings.

"Briggs I thought you said there were only twenty of these fucks!" hollered Walker and the two groups merged together.

"I said twenty give or take," grunted Briggs as she just barely avoided being bit on the leg my what remained of a zombie. It had been cut in half by the AH-6, but was still dragging it's torso, its innards trailing after it, in an effort to get to living human flesh. She stomped her foot down on the back of the things neck, feeling it snap beneath her foot before she added a bullet to its head for good measure.

"I'd say give," panted Terry, firing a round that caught another zombie in the chest, staggering it backwards and allowing Peter to fire a shot between it's eyes.

"We're doing good, just stay alert and keep shooting," called Cowboy. He and Briggs moved together like a single unit, back to back, constantly moving. Suddenly a scream pierced the air, rising above the snarling din of the zombies.

"Sonuvabitch they got Cook!" yelled Jones, momentarily stunned as he watched two of the creatures appear out of nowhere to bring the burly soldier down. In a split second one had torn his throat out while the other gouged open his stomach, pulling his entrails out and feasting upon them. Jones raised his rifle and opened fire, killing both the zombies.

"Put a round in Cook's head," commanded Briggs, firing towards the last half dozen zombies left. They were rushing towards the scent of fresh blood.

"Are you crazy! He's one of our people!" Jones cried out in horror as he looked at what was left of his friend.

"He's been bit Jones, it's only a matter of time before he comes back," Briggs yelled. No sooner had she finished her statement than the soldiers reanimated corpse sat up snarling.

"I'm sorry man," whispered Jones, squeezing the trigger. Almost as soon as he'd risen, Cook's body dropped back into the sand, at peace once more.

Silence suddenly filled the air.

"We did it," Terry said, almost in awe. "We actually pulled it off."

"We're not in the clear yet," Cowboy said. "We still need to clear the buildings, make sure there aren't any more of them lurking around."

"Steele, this is Briggs, do you copy?"

"Affirmative Briggs."

"Have your team clear the building, make sure none of those things are inside, then work on tearing down those barricades."

"Affirmative."

"Jones, Walker, Michael, and Kenneth," Briggs called out. "I want you to stick together, clear all the huts to the right of the main building, when you've secured those, loop around and meet us out back at the helipads. The rest of you come with me, we'll do the same on the left. Once we've ascertained the perimeter is secure we'll land the Birds and radio for the others to join us. Understood?"

When nobody replied, Briggs signaled for the groups to move out, and just like that, they were one step closer to making their island paradise a reality.


	42. Securing the Island

Most of the people on the newly formed search teams were still deeply disturbed by Cook's death. For many of them, it was the manner in which he'd died that affected them, torn to death and eaten while he screamed in agony and terror. It was more the fact that he'd died so close to their goal, that they'd so very nearly pulled off their mission that bothered Briggs. While her companions mourned the loss of a friend and fellow survivor,  
Briggs was appalled at the thought that, when they'd seemingly held the advantage of the moment, the reanimated dead had somehow managed to out maneuver them. She said as much to Cowboy as they slowly made their way through their half of the huts that had been built to accommodate the resort guests in lieu of a traditional hotel room. 

"Kenny, just be happy that we only lost one person today. Your harebrained little scheme worked, more or less."

"Don't hold back Charlie, tell me how you really feel," she told him angrily. When all he offered in reply was a smirk, she continued. "Maybe you think I should be happy that we only lost Cook, but we shouldn't have lost any, not when we did. We had the upper hand."

"I hate that we lost a good man just as much as you do, but let's face it, we're within reach of finally having a place to ditch the civilians. Then we can get back to our duties," he told her. "Besides, I really don't think there is any such thing as an 'upper hand' these days."

"We had the upper hand," she said again, firmly. "If this is the way our future ground offensives are going to go, then the human race is destined to be fucked one person at a time. You might want to think about that before we 'ditch the civilians and get back to our duties' as you put it so eloquently."

"Future offensives? Ditching civilians? Just what in the hell are you two talking about up here anyhow?" demanded Peter, reaching out to grasp Briggs' arm and draw her to a halt. "Once we clear this island, our fighting days are over."

Raising an eyebrow at the hand grasping her upper arm for about a half a second, Briggs turned away and broke free of his grip. "Your fighting days are over Peter, not ours. So, let's just forget about any talk of the future for now and focus on the business at hand," she told him. "We can fight about the rest later."

The team moved forward again, inspecting the first hut. They all appeared to have the same format, each hut containing two rooms or suites, depending upon the size. Briggs was willing to guess that they all had adjoining doors that could be opened and turn a single hut into one giant two bedroom suite. Most of the huts were locked up tight, and a glimpse through the windows revealed rooms prepared and waiting for guests who would never arrive. The furnishings were simple, yet immaculately done up, right down to the mint that rested upon the pillows.

"It's kind of eerie isn't it?" asked Terry, gesturing to one such hut.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked as he paused beside Terry and looked through the window.

"That room, it's like time just stopped," the teen answered as they started moving towards the next hut. One of the doors stood ajar, and they watched as Briggs slowly moved into the room with her weapon raised and ready.

"You're wrong Terry," she called out. "This room definitely takes the prize for overall creepiness." The others advanced into the room to see what she was talking about. She walked out from the bathroom, having determined the room was indeed vacant, as the others took in their first sights of the what she was talking about.

"Oh Jesus," exclaimed Terry, turning himself in a slow circle and looking all about him. There was a half-made bed along one wall, the linens trailing away from it, giving the impression that the task had been abandoned in haste. The end of the linen trail lead almost to the wall nearest the entry way, the ends resting in a pool of dried blood. The wall itself revealed a set of bloody hand prints where one of those things had obviously used it for support as it staggered its way from the room.

"Looks like the cleaning crew has been kinda laying down on the job here," quipped Cowboy, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room following Terry's outburst.

"Yea, well, I guess good help is hard to find. Even with the plethora of vacancies brought on by the apocalypse," Briggs commented, moving towards the door.

"I can't believe you two," Terry said angrily. "These people were slaughtered, and you guys just stand around making jokes about it! Cook, we just watched him die, one of our own..." he broke off, choking up and unable to finish.

"It's okay kid," Peter said, placing a hand on the his shoulder. "They're just coping with things the best they can, they don't really mean anything by it." As he spoke, the two people in question left the room, apparently moving through the other room of the hut, judging from the sounds they were making.

"That doesn't make it right," mumbled Terry, still staring at the wall with the hand prints.

"No it doesn't. But there's a lot of things those two do that probably isn't right, it's just the way of their world. Now what do you say we go catch up with them," Peter asked. When Terry didn't respond, Peter reminded him, "What they're doing making jokes is no worse than our making up games like Hollywood Squares. You didn't seem to have a problem with that."

Instead of answering, Terry hefted his weapon more securely in his hands and walked out the door, leaving Peter to follow. They made quick work of searching the rest of the huts, only a small handful of rooms were unlocked, all appearing to have been hastily abandoned in the act of being made up. None were in as bad a state of disrepair as the room with the hand prints though.

"Looks like the infection hit them without any sort of warning," commented Briggs.

"Yea, but why? Those corpses out on the beach still moved pretty fast, they couldn't have been reanimated that long. Maybe four weeks tops I'd guess," Peter added.

"But wouldn't they have seen something about it on the television?" asked Terry.

"Maybe," Cowboy drawled. "It would all depend on when their televisions went off the air around here."

"If they had them,"Briggs added.

"What do you mean if?" asked Terry. "You saw the guest rooms, they all had tv's in them."

"Right, they had tv's in the guest rooms,and we don't know about the main public areas," Briggs told him. "But that doesn't mean they had a signal, this place was still sorta under construction, television was probably the last thing on their minds."

"So?"

"So it stands to reason that nobody was following the news. They're pretty well isolated out here, I don't see any satellite dishes or something that would indicate they even had access to what was going on out there in the world. Believe it or not, not everyone in the world wants to watch CNN twenty-four/ seven. And if the employees lived here like I figure they did, they really wouldn't have had much contact with the outside world."

"But that whole idea is just messed up," Terry pressed. "Why wouldn't they know about it? Wouldn't they be making arrangements with guests? Or at least trying to?"

"Kid, in case you haven't noticed it, life is kind of fucked up right now," Cowboy told him. "And opening day here, I think they would have practiced on college kids and low income types who wouldn't be as likely to be calling and finalizing shit. This was the test group, if there were even reservations made."

"The reservations woulda been handled over the internet, and why are we even discussing this like it matters? Can we just focus on getting the helipads checked out so we can get the last of our people here?" asked Briggs.

As the search teams worked through the huts, CJ's group made their way through the main building, looking for survivors.

"Didn't you guys say there was some guy standing on the roof when you did your fly-by," demanded Sanchez.

"Yea, that's right," CJ said as they reached the stairwell leading down to the first floor. They'd searched through the second floor area finding no signs of life. Most of the second level had been taken up by a deserted restaurant area, it's balconies overlooking the beach. The remaining space was occupied with the kitchen area and a couple of offices.

"Well, where are the people then?" Sanchez said. "I'm not seeing anyone, with all the gunfire out front, you'd think that would have brought them out of hiding. At least one person would be investigating anyway."

"Or scared them into hiding," Steele said, joining them at the top of the steps. Together they made their way down the steps. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were too scared to come out yet. They'd have no way of knowing who came out on top in that battle, if those things managed to penetrate their defenses, nothing. I'd hide too."

"Still, it doesn't seem right to me," grumbled Sanchez.

Midway down the stairs, they paused, taking in the view. On the ground floor, the stairwell opened up to reveal the reception desk and lobby and what was probably a pretty nice view of the ocean when the barricade wasn't in place. As it stood now, it appeared that somebody had taken tables from the dining room and probably the coffee and end tables from the reception area, knocked the legs off and used them to nail over the windows. All types of furniture had been piled up behind that, sofas, bar stools, even some vending machines.

"Someone has to be in here, a couple of someones judging from the looks of that," Steele said, gesturing to the barricade. Sanchez ignored her, going on his own the rest way the down the steps and walking towards the front desk. Behind the desk was a closed door to the manager's office, at least that's what the little sign bolted to the door read. Making his way around the desk, Sanchez reached out and grasped the door handle.

"Sanchez, wait till we get down there to cover you," CJ said loudly as he hurried down the stairs, Steele following behind.

"Gotta news flash for you two brainiacs, if there was something behind this door it'd be trying to break it down right about now, what with all the noise you two is making," the soldier responded. He turned his attention back to the door, grasping the knob firmly this time, he gave it a twist and pushed it open. The creature came hurtling through the door at him like a shot. He screamed, spasmodically squeezing the trigger of his weapon and firing a few rounds into the air.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" hollered Steele. "It's just a goddamn cat Sanchez, hold your fire!"

The ball of speeding black fur leapt atop one of the vending machines helping to hold the barricades in place. CJ moved to join Sanchez by the reception desk. "Office is clear," the soldier said weakly, causing CJ to laugh.

"Hey there fella," cooed Steele, slinging her rifle and slowly outstretching her hand towards the cat. "Here kitty, come here big guy. We're not going to hurt you." The cat just snarled at her, snaking out a paw and raking its claws across the back of her hand.

"Steele, this really is a bad time to be trying to make new friends," Sanchez said, glaring at the cat.

"You're just pissed off 'cause this little guy damn near made you piss your pants," she retorted.

"Maybe he just doesn't know how to handle his pussy," quipped CJ, earning him a dark look from both of his companions. "Oh come on kids, let's finish clearing this place out. We'll see if we can't find our mystery survivor and then when we're done you guys can slug this out."

The radio crackled to life just than, "Who's firing? Repeat, who's firing? Do you need assistance?"

Steele dealt with the radio, then moved her team towards the rear portion of the building. The sweep of the rest of the ground floor went quickly. There was a small handful of businesses there including a novelty shop, a clothes shop featuring a variety of tacky Hawaiian shirts and a convenience store.

"Kind of an interesting selection," commented Steele as she peered through one of the shop windows at a display of liquor and cigarettes sitting along side glow sticks and suntan lotion.

Adjoining the shops was a small coffee bar that reminded CJ of Hallowed Grounds, the coffee shop from the mall. He was finding it hard to remember what that place had been like, Terry's endless attempts at making the perfect latte. It was even harder to remember his endless morning coffee breaks there after his night shift ended, all those years, now it was like something that had happened to someone else entirely. Lost in these thoughts, he didn't even notice Sanchez walking past him into what appeared to be a large dance club that spanned the entire rear portion of the building.

"Now we're talking," said Sanchez, looking around the club.

"Yea, nice bar. But in case you haven't noticed, we still have a little problem here," said CJ.

"What do you mean problem?" demanded Sanchez. "This here is our own personal little paradise. We got wine, women and song all at our fingertips," he exaggerated.

"But no people. That's what he's talking about Sanchez," Steele retorted. "Where's the guy from the roof? The people who barricaded things up so tight around here?"

"Exactly. I know what we saw earlier, me and Briggs didn't just imagine some guy jumping around on the roof like that," CJ told them.

"Maybe you both were just lying to us. Maybe this whole thing is some kind of act for our benefit," Sanchez insisted skeptically.

"For what reason? Huh, asshole? What's our motive?"

"Your girlfriend told you to say it for all I know," the soldier said defensively.

"Can it Sanchez," Steele told him, sounding remarkably like Briggs. "We would've come here whether they said they saw someone on the roof or not. There's no where else for us to go, no where else for us to hide. This is it."

"There's other secure bases out there where we could go," he answered belligerently. "We didn't have to come here."

"Oh for the love of God, we're not going to go through all this bullshit again," muttered CJ. "Let's just finish this up and let the others in, we'll worry about the missing mystery survivors later." They moved through the club, finding a small storage cellar filled with refrigerators behind the bar area, and a hallway leading to the restrooms, but nothing more.

"I think I know where the survivors might be hiding out," Steele said suddenly.

"Where?"

"This is a fairly big resort, but all we've seen in the way of storerooms is that little rinky dink cellar," she told them.

"And they'd need enough food to feed the employees and guests," said CJ, catching on.

"Plus additional stuff for restocking the stores," Steele said.

"We haven't seen anything like that around here though," Sanchez said.

"Bingo. When we find the storage area, I bet we find any survivors."

"Good thinking," CJ told her. "That just leaves us with one question remaining. Do we take the barricade down first or look for the storage space?"

"Barricade," suggested Sanchez. "By the time we get through tearing that shit down the others oughta be about ready to join us, they can pitch in with the search."

"Not a bad plan really," admitted CJ.

"All right then, let's make it happen," Steele agreed. "Just stay alert, we don't know if whoever it is in here is a friendly or not."

Michael's team had had similar findings as Briggs' group, a couple of unlocked rooms scattered here and there among the buildings, but otherwise nothing. Spatters of blood along doors, congealed and dried blood dotting portions of the walkway were the lone evidence that those creatures had ever been through this part of the resort.

As they were making their way around the far end of the buildings, moving around back towards where Briggs had declared the helipad to be located, they heard shots firing from the direction of the main building.

"Damn, it's those things again," moaned Jones. The pivoted about, peering around the perimeter of their position as if one of the zombies was going to leap out at them any moment. "They're fuckin' gonna pick us off one at a time," he muttered.

"Get a hold of yourself Jones," ordered Kenneth. "That was just a little burst, if there were more of those things our people wouldn't have gone down without a bigger fight than that."

"He's right," Walker said, reaching for his radio. "Who's firing? Repeat, who's firing, do you need assistance?"

"False alarm," Steele's voice came over the radio filled with static. "Accidental discharge, the area is almost secured. We're finishing our sweep of the ground floor, then we'll begin removal of the barricades."

"And there's our answer," Michael said, relief tingeing his voice.

Pressing forward around the building, Kenneth took point and told the others, "Let's just stick with the plan and meet up with the others out by the helipad."

As they neared the rendezvous point, Kenneth caught sight of Briggs group. They were situated at the far side of the pad, their attention directed towards another building, concealed within the lush foliage of the jungle that covered the central portion of the island. "Now what?" he asked himself quietly.

As the two teams gathered together, they could hear the sounds of snarling and pounding emanating form the building before them.

"Doesn't sound like there's very many of them," Michael announced, breaking the silence.

"Nah, but it looks like somebody went through a lot of effort to barricade them inside," Briggs replied, noting the boards across the outside of some of the windows.

"Why lock up some of them and not all of them?" asked Terry.

"Who knows. Maybe they thought they had, maybe they didn't realize how it spread any better than the rest of the world did," she told him.

"So what's the plan?" asked Cowboy.

"Well,someone's gonna have to go up and open that door," Briggs said, looking at the others. "Any volunteers?"

"Oh hell no lady," Jones declared. "Why don't you just walk your happy ass up there and get eaten. What's the other options?"

"We figure out how to get up on the roof and access it through that vent there," she said, pointing. "You sure you don't want to volunteer Jones?"

"Fuck you," he said, flipping her off.

"Okay then, I'll take that as a no," she said, looking the building over. "Cowboy, with me, the rest of you are on watch."

As she and Cowboy moved away, Kenneth called out, "Just what the hell do you have in mind?"

"We'll either clear the building or end up as zombie chow," Briggs replied distractedly. She and Cowboy reached the building, pausing as the pounding and snarling from within grew louder.

"They know we're out here," she said.

"I guess so," Cowboy commented. "Doesn't sound like that many though, two, maybe three tops."

"If that's the case, this should be a piece of cake," she told him. "So let's hope you're right."

The two of them inspected a small overhang above the main door, directly below the vent in question. Getting a boost from Cowboy, Briggs pulled herself up onto the overhang. As she inspected the vent, a portion of the overhang gave way beneath her foot. Barely catching herself, she adjusted her position so that her feet were solidly balanced on the frame. At last, she unslung her rifle and used the butt to break out the vent. Peering inside, she called down to Cowboy, "Looks like it leads into a crawl space above the ceiling."

Focusing her attention before her once more, Briggs carefully entered the building, taking care to stand on the cross beams of the ceiling. Behind her, she could here Cowboy pulling himself up onto the overhang. Her radio crackled to life.

"Briggs, how you doing in there?" Michael's voice came over the earpiece.

"We're in a crawl space right now," she said as Cowboy joined her. "I'm going radio silent now, we'll let you know if we're successful." Turning off the radio, she made eye contact with her brother. "So what do you think?"

"There's gotta be a way down into the main building somewhere."

Outside, the time seemed to crawl by slowly for those waiting. Glancing down at his watch, Michael was shocked to see that only ten minutes had passed since his last radio contact with Briggs. A single shot suddenly echoed from within the building.

"At least we know they made it in there anyway," commented Peter.

"Yea, but it's awful quiet in there," Kenneth said. "Aside from those things pounding on the door."

Nobody said anything to that, they just waited and watched. Moments later, gunfire broke out from inside the structure once more, three shots, in rapid succession.

Michael tried the radio, "Briggs? Briggs, what's going on in there?" Nothing but static greeted him in reply.

Minutes dragged by slowly before they saw Cowboy emerging from the broken vent, swiftly climbing down, followed closely by Briggs. When they reached the ground, instead of joining the others, they went to work trying to pry the boards from the door. Succeeding at last, they opened the door, standing back some as the corpse of one of the creatures fell through the open portal. Briggs knelt down beside it, looking intently at the thing's face.

"It's Mike," she said softly to Cowboy.

"We'll give him a proper burial," he said as the others walked up. Nodding, Briggs rose to her feet.

"CJ," she called over the radio. "How's the main building looking?"

"It's clear, we've got most of the barricades to the front of the building down, but there's no sign of survivors. Steele thinks they may be hiding out in a storage area or something that we just haven't located yet."

"I'm on my way inside to help search." Looking at the others she said, "Jones, get on the horn to the choppers, give them the all clear to land. Contact the Stallion and get the last of the civilians on their way." With a long last look at the corpse in the doorway, she strode away, her brother trailing after her.


	43. The End is Only the Beginning

The search through the resort's main building at last revealed a series of passages between the upper and lower levels, all leading down to a basement like area formed from natural caverns beneath the ground. It was in these caverns that they located the island's survivors, including the mystery man from the roof. The caverns also held the real secret to where Briggs' so-called 'Uncle' and his friends obtained most of their wealth to finance the island.

"Holy Jesus I don't think the company arms room back at Pastor had this many weapons," Steele said, pivoting about and taking a good, hard look around the caverns.

"Yea. I may of, uh, forgot to mention that there were some known arms dealers as well as drug cartels that popped up along our map of potential refueling sites," Briggs supplied.

"They run drugs here too?" CJ asked in surprise.

"No, no drugs. At least not that they were selling. These guys were into something a little more profitable, for them anyway."

"They were gun runners," Sanchez laughed, shaking his head.

"Well, you never know when you might need the extra cash flow," Cowboy told him. Briggs focused her attention on the survivors huddled in the corner, intent on interrogating them about what had happened.

An hour later, the questioning over and the tale of the island's infection told, the group emerged back out on the helipad, their new additions in tow. The helicopters had all arrived by this point, including the one carrying Roger and their medical personnel. The latter three nowhere to be seen.

"Michael!" Briggs called out to the first person she saw. "Any word on Roger's status?"

"He was looking pretty bad when they touched down. Ana and Tom got him moved to the infirmary at the back of the staff quarters and were trying to stabilize him."

"How long?"

"Almost half an hour now. Peter's with them too."

Briggs nodded, making her way towards the building in question, barking out orders along the way. At the threshold of the door she paused, unconsciously seeing Mike's body sprawled in the doorway once more, even though it had long since been cleared away. Shaking off the feeling of walking over a grave, she moved inside, nearly running into Tom and Ana who were coming from the opposite direction. "Roger?" she asked, seeing the looks on their faces.

"He didn't make it, died about 5 minutes ago," Ana said sadly. "Peter's with him now, waiting."

"Waiting?"

"Just before he...just before he died, he told Peter that he was going to try and not come back. He didn't want to be a mindless corpse walking the earth, and even though he could feel the urge he was going to fight it."

"But I think it was just the delirium brought on by the infection and fever that made him say it," Tom pointed out quickly. "He was never bit, it was a gunshot wound, he shouldn't come back." A snarl followed by a single shot echoed through the building, and moments later Peter entered the hallway, walking towards them slowly.

"It's done," were the only words from the former policeman as he walked closer.

"Looks like he must have missed the memo about the rules of reanimated corpses, unless you've been wrong all along and it's not just the bites that bring someone back," commented Briggs, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"But that can't be! The only people we've seen turn into one of those things have been bitten," Tom said insistently.

"Well, I just watched my best friend die and come back, and he damn sure wasn't bit," Peter said gruffly.

"So tell me this people, with all the corpses that we've seen, can any of you say with 100 assurance that not a single one couldn't have ended up that way after dying from natural causes?" Briggs asked. "Because I sure as hell know that I can't say that." The general consensus ended up a unanimous no. "From what the locals here on the island told us, the infection hit about two and a half weeks ago. One of the builders must have suffered a massive heart attack and died, at least that's what it sounded like to me. He was brought in here to the infirmary, and the staff doctor worked on him, trying to revive him, but everything he did failed. Everyone else went back to work, and it was just the doctor and Mike in here with him when he turned. I think you can all pretty much guess what happened after that."

"This kind of changes the hypothesis about the infection we've all accepted, or at least most of us accepted anyway. We're really gonna have to rethink everything that we thought we knew," Ana replied.

"Not really, just think of this as adding a little bit of a twist to the theory. And then think about this, I say we've all been infected by the virus, and I think it just lays dormant until your vital functions stop, then it goes to work re-animating the body directly from the cellular level. Simple and efficient really," Briggs said.

"But what about the bites?" Tom asked. "The bites still cause people to die and become one of those things."

"You need to think of everything like a chemical reaction. The bites are just a catalyst that speeds up death and basically brings someone back to, well, life-like killing machine status that much quicker. It all boils down to some simple chemical equations. You just have to accept that as it stands, we're all screwed," Briggs said.

"So what's the point of continuing to fight for survival then?" Tom cried out.

"Hope," Ana told him quietly.

"Indeed. Maybe somehow there's a way to kill the virus when it's in the dormant stage," replied Briggs. "So, in light of that thought, let's take care of Roger's body along with the rest of them out there and make this place livable again. You guys oughta be safe here until the rest of the world manages to get this, well, whatever this all is, under some sort of control."

"What do you mean take care of Roger's body along with the rest of them?" Peter demanded, focusing on the first part of her comment.

"Why are you talking like you won't be here with us?" questioned Ana, focusing on the latter half of Briggs' statement.

"Kenneth and Walker are digging a pit down on the far side of the beach, down wind of the rooms. We're gonna torch the bodies."

"You're not doing that with Roger! He isn't some nameless, faceless nobody, he was one of us," protested Peter vehemently.

Briggs looked at him, consideringly. "Out behind the building you should be able to find a tool shed where the handymen kept their tools and grounds equipment. Help yourself to a shovel."

"You just expect him to bury Roger alone?" Tom demanded.

"It's his concern not mine, I have other matters to attend to, preparations to be made. And for the record, nobody out there is a nameless, faceless thing, they had friends and family too. Just like your friend Roger," Briggs said, leaving before anyone could say anything further to her.

"That's got to be the coldest bitch on the planet," muttered Tom. "Making a comment like that and still going ahead and just torching those bodies."

Over the course of the next few days, they finished burning the corpses that they'd left littering the grounds of the resort upon their arrival. Peter got his wish, and on the morning of the second day, they held a small funeral service for Roger, with everyone but Briggs in attendance. She definitely wasn't out to win any popularity contests with the other castaways at this point. After that, the majority of the group began living what was almost a normal life. Suspected couples shacked up openly now, Ana and Michael, Peter and Fran, and Terry and Nicole seemed to have worked out their differences, as had Monica and Walker. While they all grew closer to each other andformed a societal unit of sorts, Briggs and Cowboy began segregating themselves from the group. On any given day those two were usually holed up in what had once been their Uncle Mike's small apartment in the staff quarters or else his office in the main building. On the evening of their fourth night on the island, the others learned why. It happened when they were getting ready for a cookout on the beach.

"Sonuvabitch! We got incoming helicopters!" Sanchez hollered at the others from where he stood on the edge of the surf that was steadily pulsing onto the beach.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" demanded Henry, grabbing for a set of field glasses and looking out at the sky. The others nervously fingered the weapons they still carried, not enough time having passed yet to let them feel comfortable without the steady, bracing feel the cold steel of a pistol or rifle afforded them.

"US markings on them," Masters said. "Maybe someone should go find Briggs."

"The ice maven can wait," mumbled Steve. He'd been keeping a relatively low profile ever since the day that Briggs had kicked his ass across the rooftop when his cowardice had gotten Roger shot.

"The ice maven already knows," the person in question said, striding past the others and out onto the surf with Sanchez.

"So these ghost ass motherfuckers coming here for your ass or to take out all of us?" Sanchez asked as she drew near his position.

"I guess you could say they're here for me seeing as how I invited them," Briggs told him, her eyes focused on the helicopters that were drawing nearer by the minute.

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded CJ as the rest of the group began to crowd around Briggs and Sanchez.

"It's a strike force under the command of one Captain Michael Bryant, our little Jester. He's here to give Cowboy and me a lift outta here," Briggs answered smoothly.

"He's one of your people," Michael said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yea, he's one of my people, the plant I had spying on Scarecrow's ass and keeping me abreast of what he was doing," she said turning to look him in the eyes before saying anymore. "It's that old adage about keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer."

"When were you going to tell me about all this?" CJ mumbled. For a brief second, some sort of emotion resembling regret crossed Briggs' eyes, but then she steeled herself away behind the icy demeanor once more.

"Strictly need to know. I did what I promised to do, I brought you and the others to safety. The rest of what I was doing was my business."

"But you told Cowboy," he pressed.

"Cowboy's been in on everything from the start, he's the one person in the world I trust unconditionally, we always work together like this."

"What about me?"

"CJ, this isn't the time or the place for this," she said, her voice hard, but her eyes quietly pleading with him, or at least that's what he liked to believe he saw in her eyes. The helicopters were beginning to touch down on the beach by that point, and everyone's attention became focused on that.

Over the course of the next few hours, soldiers began carrying weapons of all kinds up from the caverns beneath the resort, loading them onto the waiting aircraft. Briggs and Cowboy holed themselves up in the office area with Captain Bryant, who they referred to as Jester, and a female SSG (A/N: that's Staff Sergeant for the acronym challenged) named McNab who spoke with a decidedly British accent. Michael, Ana, and the rest of the original mall group sat a short distance down the beach from all the activity, speculating about what was going to happen, until at last Briggs' bad of merry miscreants finally appeared once again, each of them lugging an over-size, military issue duffel. They tossed them aboard one of the aircraft, McNab and Bryant climbing on board after the gear.

"We're leaving now," Briggs said without much preamble and she and her brother approached Michael's group.

"Why?" questioned Ana. "I thought the whole purpose of this trip was to make it to this island and wait things out."

"Obviously the mission's changed."

"What mission?" demanded Kenneth.

"As I've already told CJ, it's a need to know kind of thing. Obviously it relates to other survivors, that's all I can really say," she hedged in reply. Her brother shook his head.

"There's still some military outposts up and holding across the country. They're pretty well spread out, but I think you've all seen first hand what some of them are capable of," Cowboy said, reminding the others of the time they'd spent on the other island.

"So what? Your big mission is to go back out there and get yourself caught so they can either turn you into a human guinea pig or just kill you outright?" CJ asked bitterly.

"No, we're heading back out there to help the civilian outposts," Briggs said, making the others look at her with surprise. "Yea, that's right, there's civilian outposts all over the country too. My mission is to make sure they have defenses up that are capable of keeping them alive, not only from those things trying to eat them, but crazy doctors trying to use them to experiment on."

"Why you?" Nicole asked.

"Because it's my job. And because there's no one else."

"I'm coming with you," declared CJ, striding forward. Briggs and Cowboy looked like they were both going to start arguing with him.

"Whatever. It's your choice," she told him after a moment. "Anyone who wants to come with us, be ready to leave in 15 minutes," she called out, turning and walking back towards the helicopters. Cowboy stayed behind for a few moments longer.

"She's got another reason for going, you know," he said.

"And just what might that be?" Steve asked, almost sounding like his normal self. The imminent departure of the woman who seemed to enjoy kicking his ass bringing a definite change in his demeanor.

"She's trying to keep you all out of harms way. I think she figures that if she's out in the open, putting her ass on the line, then Scarecrow won't have any reason to come looking for all of you. Except for maybe using you for bait."

"If you think there's the chance that he could come after us for bait, then what difference does it make if you stay or go?" Michael questioned.

"Reverse psychology. She doesn't give a damn about you guys now that you're outta her hair," he called out, walking back to join his sister.

In the end, only CJ and Masters chose to leave the island with the strike force and return to whatwas leftof the United States. The rest of them remained behind, trying to recapture some small part of the lives they remembered before the infection had devastated their worlds. Despite their best efforts though, they knew it would never be like it once was. A couple months to the day after Briggs left, Fran gave birth to a healthy baby girl she named Stephanie, in honor of her father. Time seemed to move faster with every passing day, and before they knew it, Stephanie was celebrating her first birthday. Life went on. They planted gardens, hunted and fished for their food. More children would be born over the next couple of years, each one a little miracle, and each one raising the question, were any of them really free of the virus, or was it just waiting to rear its ugly head once more. Though life went on, it was hard for any of them to forget Briggs' last words before she departed.

"This isn't over, you'll see us again."

Fin.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who actually stuck with this story all the way from beginning to end, and thanks to all you who took the time to write a review, it was all heartily appreciated. When I started this thing I had no idea where it was going to lead, or how long it would end up being, but it's been fun to write. There will be some sequels to this, I have one in the works involving Briggs and the strike force she left on which will become tied in with Land of the Dead. Another one I have planned will come back to the island and catch up on what happened to those who stayed behind and whether or not they ever left it, as well as tie-in a little bit with Day of the Dead.


End file.
